The Life I Lead
by guitarguy12345
Summary: "My name is Mordecai James Quintel. I am 23 years old. I wear a mask. I suffer in silence. This is the life I lead." (Observe a video diary monologue of the inner mechanics of Mordecai's psyche as we watch the deterioration of his mental health in his everyday life, as well as how he sees his peers coping with it.) TW: death, blood, self harm. (*Update: extended good ending*)
1. The First Entry

The following is video diary of Mordecai's struggles with depression.

* * *

 ** _6-28-15_**

I, uh-I'm, uhm, hi! A lot of people don't know this about me- well, scratch that, heh, _no one_ knows this about me-, but I am clinically depressed. I was diagnosed when I was 15 or so. My Mom was the only one in the family who knew (and recognized) depression was a disease, so we decided to keep it from the rest of the family. My Dad thought depression was some silly made up reason people used to get out of work and such; he refused to see it as a disease, despite the scientific studies. The rest of my family was like minded. A while before I got diagnosed, I was watching a news report on it with my Dad. He said to me, "Mordecai, if you ever try to tell me you have "depression", I'll disown you faster than you can say 'I need a therapist'! Haha!" I didn't even know much about depression at the time. I had always been kind of a pessimist. It wasn't anything alarming, though. I mean, everyone is kind of a pessimist to some degree right? Anyway. Things started to change when I entered High School. My grades started dropping and I was anxious. I often spent the nights thinking about my future, thinking about who I was and how I got here, thinking about the grand scheme of things, thinking about how we've treated each other as humans in this vast world, just everything.I thought about everything! But at the same time, nothing at all. I just felt awful. I couldn't explain it. I still can't.

Then I got diagnosed, and I became scared. The fact that my mom couldn't afford a therapist or medications really scared me too. I knew there was something wrong with me, and then I felt inferior to everyone around me. Even my friend Rigby, and he had-no, _has_ nothing going for him in life. So I did what I felt came naturally. I hid it. I put on a mask. I was afraid if I told people, they would ridicule me like my Dad would have, had he found out. So I hid it. I put on a mask. I'm doing that to this very day. In fact, I can't control it anymore. I can't take it off. My mask has become a part of me, and I've been someone else for 8 years now. I find it impossible to talk anyone about it. Not my best friend, not my mother, not anyone. That brings me as to why I'm keeping this video diary. My mental state has been deteriorating in the last few months. My girlfriend- erm, ex girlfriend CJ and I had been having problems for several months now, before we broke up some weeks ago. My other ex Margaret still has feelings for me and it only created problems which led to this mess with CJ. I'm not getting into the nitty-gritty.

Anyway, after I got dumped, an old friend of mine took me to a place called Dumptown, USA. It's place where dudes go to forget their problems recently after getting dumped. It was paradise, until Rigby showed up and made me realize I had lost my perception of time and that I had spent two weeks there when it had only felt like a few days. When we escaped, I realized one more thing. I can't run away from my problems. I had to talk to someone about my depression. My feelings. What goes on in my head. And I couldn't talk to anyone, for reasons I just told you. I decided to look up ways to help myself on the internet.

So there you have it! I decided to start a video diary. I should come up with a name for you, or... whatever it is I'm talking to. The website said to do so it'd feel more like I'm talking to a real person. So I think I'll call you... Amethyst. Funky name, I know. My boss started keeping an amethyst rock thing on his desk recently and I'm thinking of it right now. Not sure why. Anyway, this will be a log of what goes on in my head, as well as what happens to me on a day to day basis.

My name is Mordecai James Quintel. I am 23 years old. I wear a mask. I suffer in silence. This is the life I lead.

Until next time.


	2. Panic Attacks and Adventurous Clouds

**_7-1-15_**

Hey Amethyst. I thought I was gonna make this video diary thing a daily thing, but... nah. I think I'm more comfortable with recapping the events of a few days for every entry. And just to be clear, I don't expect this video diary thing to cure me. I bought this dumb camera because I know it'll be healthy for me in the long run to know how to talk to someone who's willing to listen. Whether I want to talk to an actual person or not, well... that's another thing.

Anyway, I've been thinking lately. People talk about curing depression all the time. They also talk about recovering from it. I think it's bogus. I think depression is incurable. Sure, you can get your dream job, marry the love of your life, and do whatever makes you happy with the one you love. Sure, that'll put you in a good mental state. But how far does that really _go?_ Treating depression is a lot like treating cancer. You can give a cancer patient all the chemotherapy, medicinal pot, and new-fangled drugs all you want; sure, it'll ease the pain for a while, but does it get rid of the cancer? No. Can the medicine wear off? Yes. Could the medicine possibly make the patient's conditions worse? Possibly. Can the pain come back? Absolutely. It's the same with depression. You can take all the prozac, aderall, and zoloft you want. Will it ease the pain? Yes. Does it get rid of the depression? No. Can the medicine wear off? Yes. Could the medicine possibly make the patient's conditions worse? Possibly. Can the pain come back? Absolutely.

I suppose that's the pessimistic way of seeing things- but then again, I've never really had the money for a lasting prescription to any happy pills.

Anyway, I'll just go on with what happened the last couple days.

CJ has basically disappeared. Eileen told me she's embarked on a cross country trip to find herself. I also had a date with Margaret. Not really an actual date (well... it was for her, I guess), it was just talking about recent events over some of her homemade baked ziti. It. Went. Awful. I had a panic attack after while because what we were talking about became to much for me to handle. It was awful. I was crying and shouting and I became basically delusional and dehydrated from crying so much that I passed out. I woke up the next morning in her arms. I wasn't exactly comfortable with it because my feelings about her right now are still very mixed. She told me she stayed with me the whole night to calm me down and made sure I'd be alright. Margaret was always a kind-hearted person. Apparently, I had blacked out for a while before I really passed out the night before. For those of you who don't know what I mean, blacking out while having a panic attack is basically when your brain goes to sleep, but your big fat mouth gets all "eye of the tiger". She said that I went on and on about how much I hated life and how much I missed CJ and all that. She told me she feared that I was going down a bad path.

That scared me a lot. Let me tell you why.

I'm _terrified_ of talking to other people about my issues. Too much anxiety. I can't articulate my words properly around people. I've also been wearing that mask and hiding it all away for so long that the idea of telling another person freaks me out- especially because it'd be out of the blue in contrast to my usual chill self (aka the mask). That's actually the main reason I'm doing this video diary. So I can talk to at least something, or well, "someone". She told me she wanted to meet up with her on Friday so she could talk to me about something important. At least that's what she said.

Sigh... I need a nap. I'm starting to get worked up.


	3. Robin in Cloud's Clothing

_**7-4-15**_

Hey Amethyst. I was scrolling through tumblr the other night and I saw a text post. It said that being a pessimist is great because you're always either right or pleasantly surprised. They called it the optimistic view on pessimism. I really related to it. I may start thinking of myself as the world's most optimistic pessimist. Heh heh heh...

Anyway, I met up with Margaret yesterday. The short version is I'm pissed at her now.

That's it, that's all I wanted to say. Video diary over for today, see you next time!

...

Jusssst kidding. Heh. Here's what happened.

The "important thing" she wanted to talk to me about was suppressing my issues. She said it straight up, just like that. "Mordecai, I think you're suppressing your issues, and you need to stop." That's it. That's how she said it. The reason I got pissed off was because everything she said after that sentence didn't really have much to do with "suppressing my issues". She talked about moving on, and surrounding myself with people who really cared about me. I knew she was talking about herself. She placed her hand on mine. She was giving me the eyes. She wanted me back, even though she knew damn well I still felt for CJ. She also knew, even MORE damn well, that I was aware she still had feelings for me. I wasn't buying the act, but I decided to let her speak and humor her. In her defense, she did mean well. What she started saying after pushed me closer to the edge. She was trying to invite me on a date, but not just some ordinary date- she talked about things like going to Cheezers, playing crappy old video games, staying up all night watching even crappier romance movies and making fun of them. Things CJ and I did together. She was trying to replace CJ. I was near my boiling point but I held my tongue. I was about to politely decline her offer, but then she tried to kiss me.

It was at that point that Nice Mordecai went to sleepy-town to take a nice long nap on the beach of dreams and Angry Mordecai crawled out from the fiery catacombs of the 7th Circle of Hell for playtime.

Heh, well, needless to say, I lost my temper.

I vigorously pushed her away. She looked at me like I had just shot a pregnant lately point blank in the stomach in front of a Church. Then I started yelling at her. Thank god no one was around due to the newer and nicer mall opening up across town.

I said to her what I never thought I'd say to her at all.

"Don't _fucking_ give me that shit, Margaret! I know what you're trying to do! Video games? Shit movies? Greasy food? You're trying to _fucking_ replace CJ! I can't _fucking_ believe you, and even when you know the wounds are still fresh! Ugh, but god what should I have expected from the likes of _you_ lately!"

"W-What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she said, trying to sound assertive.

Hoooooooh boy I was only getting started though. And you could tell I was mad because I rarely drop the f-bomb that much.

"Ever since you came back last Christmas you've been nothing but harmful to my relationship with CJ! You just _had_ to lure me into that kiss! You and your Dad just _had_ to take me up in that helicopter!You just _had_ to _lie about having a boyfriend!_ You just _had to still have feelings for me!_ Don't give me that "I couldn't control it!" bullshit! I don't care what your intentions were! The fact of the matter is that if you never came back to this shithole of a town, then CJ and I would still be together! And now you try to comfort me by being CJ's _fucking clone?_ Where do you get off, thinking you can just swoop in and pick up the scraps CJ left behind? What gives you the right, _bitch?_ "

Calling her a bitch was definitely a first. She was in tears by the time I got done chewing her out. Don't get me wrong, I felt a little bad for blowing up at her like that, but I needed to get it off my chest. And honestly, what kind of person thinks they can just replace a dude's perfect girl?

"I-I'm sorry M-Mordecai.." she sniveled out. It wasn't a pretty sight. You know how when you were a kid and whenever you cried snot would run out your nose? Yeah. This was Margaret's situation.

"I just.. I... I regret everything. I regret leaving you. I wish I had just gone to the Community College, my University did a couple courses there in my field... I thought I was over you. I was wrong. I know I got in the way of you and CJ but I never wanted it to happen! It just did! I feel _terrible_ about it! And now I want to fix the damage I've done! Let me make you better, please, just... give me a shot."

I thought it was kind of ironic. I spent _years_ chasing her, and now _she's_ begging _me_ for a second chance?

I told her (with my back turned), "Margaret, if you want to make it up to me, you can start by leaving me alone for good while, I just can't look at you right now. Don't bother trying to call me. I'll talk to you when I'm ready."

She wiped her snot dripping nose and told me she understood. I didn't watch her walk away.

Seems like my break from dating has moreso become a break from Margaret, but I'm not complaining.

Anywho, it's my day off and I have a full day of arcade games with Rigby awaiting. Until next time.


	4. Shit Boss, Shittier Friend

**A/N. This story is meant to be for the people who suffer from depression and feel that their depression is rooted in nothing, but at the same time everything. In this story, I want to show that depression can stem from seemingly nothing, but at the same time, seemingly everything.**

* * *

 _ **7-7-15**_

What's new Amethyst? Nothing, that's what. You're a camera. Hell's wrong with me?

Anywayy... Pops said something really profound to me the other day. I suppose he could tell the whole Margaret and CJ was bringing me down. But what he said, it was just so... pure, so real, that I felt I could apply it to my life as a whole and not just this relationship bumpkis. He said:

"Mordecai, inside every being, there are two puppies. Both of them want to be your best friend for the rest of your life! However, one puppy is good, the other is evil. How do we know which one will be successful in becoming your lifelong furry companion? It's quite simple old boy, it's the one that you feed."

I knew Pops could be a little wacky at times but... wow. This still blows me away. It makes me think... all those years ago, when I became depressed on the inside, before my diagnosis, before I knew it was depression, when I mistook it for maturing... did I... feed the wrong puppy? It's like he said. Two puppies want to be your companion. One is good and one is evil. The one I feed becomes my companion. I can't help but think... did I feed the evil puppy?

Sigh. Enough of that.

I regret what I said to Margaret. I could have been so much nicer about it. I called her, saying that I apologized for how rude I was, but that I still needed my space. She accepted my apology and told me she'd keep her distance. Though she didn't seem that happy to hear from me. Oh well.

In other news, Benson and Rigby have been kinda shitty to me lately. Yesterday I was on break, drinking a soda in front of the snack bar. There was still 5 minutes left in my break when Benson drove up in his cart. He literally yelled at me, "Mordecai, you useless waste of air, if you're not behind that snack bar counter in 10 seconds, you're _FIRED!"_ I was taken aback by how angry he was. I wasn't even doing anything wrong. I told Rigby about it and he shrugged me off, saying that Benson is always angry. This however wasn't just anger... it was, like, malice. Benson's an angry guy, sure, but it's not like he's incapable of showing compassion. I wouldn't call him a malice person, but... damn.

As for Rigby, he's been blowing me off lately. He's been ditching all of our plans the past few days to hang out with Eileen. He's probably been getting lucky, but still. Not only that, but he's also ditching half the workday to go make googly eyes at her at the Coffee Shop, leaving me to pick up his work. Not that Benson has decided to give me extra cash for extra work, which he's kind of legally obliged to do. This morning I asked Rigby if he wanted to see _Jurassic World_ tonight. He said no, and that he was already going to see it with Eileen. On his way into the bathroom, he told me I need to stop clinging to him so much. Which through me off balance. Since when am I clingy? We're best friends, we always hang out. I know I left him hanging at times when I was dating CJ but I never accused him of being clingy _\- even though he was._

Ugh. Whatever. I let it go. Figured it wasn't worth arguing over.

I also got a letter from CJ the other day. Apparently she was in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina when she sent it. It was dated a week before it was delivered. It read:

 _Dear Mordecai_

 _I don't know how long I'm gonna be traveling this country. I don't even know if I'll stay in my country. I've adopted this new mantra, "Get Lost, Find Yourself". It's given me the strength to make this journey. I don't know where I'll end up, but I know I'm not coming back to Twin Peaks. I don't think we should get back together. Don't wait up for me. Good luck Mordecai. I'll always remember you._

 _-Cloudy Jay_

 _P.S. Sorry for leaving without notice. I felt it would be easier this way_

I'm not gonna lie. I cried, I really did. If I was heartbroken already, I'm even more heartbroken now. I've really lost her forever this time...

Not everyone in my social ring thought I was good with CJ. Not everyone thought I was good with Margaret. What all my friends thought didn't matter. I was happy with CJ, and whether they respected that or not, it's the truth. I was the happiest guy this side of the Mississippi with CJ. But that's all over now. I guess all I can do now is get used to the fact that I won't see her again and just... live, I guess. Day by day.

Sigh, or try to, at least.


	5. Bullshit, You Fuckin' Miss Me

**_7-10-15_**

Yo Amethyst! Check it, I found the old lyrics to a song I wrote when Margaret left me. The chords were scribbled on the back and well, I have my old guitar here, so... I figured I'd play it.

It's called "Your Graduation"

 _It's been three whole years of me thinking about you every day_

 _Sometimes for hours, sometimes in passing._  
 _Saw you from the bottom of the staircase,_  
 _Stood out for hours as you complained._  
 _About how you haven't seen your friends yet_  
 _That you're too drunk to stand and_  
 _You not knowing_

 _if you can love him forever..._

 ** _Bullshit,_ _you fucking miss me_**

 _There I said it, I guess I'll talk to you in a few months!_  
 _Sitting drunk on the sidewalk_  
 _I guess I'll get up,_  
 _I guess I'll go for a, walk._  
 _Press my shoes against the pavement,_  
 _I swear this has got to be the hundredth_  
 _Time I've thought of you tonight_

 _You weren't the only one_  
 _who thought of us that way_  
 _I spend most nights awake_  
 _Wide awake_

 _I never thought that I_  
 _Oh I would see the day_  
 _Where I'd just let you go_  
 _Let you walk away_  
 _Where I let you walk away_

 ** _Used to call you crook, called you a bandit_**  
 ** _There ain't no other god damn reason why_**  
 ** _my heart, it would go missing_**  
 ** _For so many months so I was wishing that you_**  
 ** _That you would stop pretending_**  
 ** _Remember all those countless nights_**  
 ** _When I told you I loved you_**  
 ** _And to never forget it_**  
 ** _Oh just forget it_**

 _You weren't the only one_  
 _who thought of us that way_  
 _I spend most nights awake_  
 _Wide awake_

 _I never thought that I_  
 _Oh I would see the day_  
 _Where I'd just let you go_  
 _Let you walk away_

 _Go ahead and walk away_

Heh. My singing voice isn't the best, I know, but... music is therapeutic.

Anyway, the past few days since my last entry haven't been the best.

First off, Rigby is using his vacation days to go on a trip with Eileen, it was totally out of the blue. Didn't even mention where they were going. Probably a beach or something, since I saw Rigby packing a bathing suit in his suitcase. Never new why he wears swim trunks... I mean, the guy walks around naked. Benson has been making me pick up Rigby's work, telling me he'd only give me the extra work pay if I did a stellar job. Normally he'd give me the extra money regardless, like he's supposed too, but for some reason he treats me like I'm Hitler lately.

Next there's how I saw Margaret on the news some nights ago... it was kind of hard to watch. She was reporting on a teenage boy who was molested by his 35 year old female english teacher. I could see hurt in Margaret's eyes. Not from the news story, but from what I said to her. I feel so guilty. I hurt two people I loved at one point.

And lastly, Muscle Man has begun harassing me with 'pranks'. As if my work environment wasn't hostile enough? I mean I'd go to my HR guy if _he wasn't the one causing the fucking problem. BENSON._ Grr.

Anywho. Muscle Man has acquired a really f'd up taste for cruel pranks. It's like, actual bullying. Yesterday, he kept throwing rotten eggs at me while I was trying to mow the lawn (which Benson yelled at _me_ to clean up, obviously). Then if that wasn't bad enough, he set my art school diploma on fire. Hell, I wouldn't have cared that much if it was high school diploma, but, seriously? Art school was the only school I was _proud_ to graduate. Also his "My Mom" jokes are getting out of hand. He doesn't leave me alone for most of the day, it really sucks.

Y'know, I'm really starting to hate this washed-up shit-show of a park.

* * *

 ** _7-12-15_**

Hey Amethyst. If you look around, you'll see I'm not recording at my usual location. That's because I ran away. Well, I mean, I didn't really run away. I left a note for Benson saying I'm using a couple unused sick days. I figured no biggie, I don't usually get sick. Unless it's of people's bullshit, in which case I'm a dying patient in the terminal ward. I left at midnight after my last entry. I grabbed a shirt, jacket, my old guitar, and my camera of course. I didn't have any cash to bring with me. I... well... I had to find a place to sleep. It was dark and I didn't feel safe lurking the streets of Twin Peaks at night, so I slept under a highway overhang nearby. I called Margaret the next morning, telling her that I was once again sorry, and that I wanted to meet. I didn't necessarily love the idea of trying to find solace in her friendship right now, but at this point in time, she's the only person around here who isn't treating me like shit.

She met me at the coffee shop. She took one look at me and literally went,

"God Mordecai, you look like you just slept in a dumpster.."

I mean, she wasn't far off- I had bags under my eyes and my hair feathers were really ruffled. I told her I spent the night under a highway overhang. She had sympathy in her eyes. I tried to ignore it. I asked her if I could stay at her and Eileen's place for couple days, since Eileen was gone with Rigby and my parents were too far to walk. I felt really guilt asking her this, having treated her like shit last week and here I am looking to her for shelter.

To my surprise, her face lit up and she said she'd be happy to have me.

When we got to her and Eileen's place, something felt... different about it. About the house, that is. It felt... warmer, cozier. Like an actual home, as opposed to that creaky old house at the park. I grabbed a 20 minute shower to get all the highway grime off of me. When I got out, I noticed my clothes were gone. Feeling anxious, I quickly dried my feathers and put on a towel. I stepped outside and was prepared to call Margaret's name to figure out where my clothes had gone, but to my surprise she was standing outside with a spare, clean pair of pajamas. An oversized grey t-shirt and red flannel pajama pants. She took one look me, blushed, and said:

"While you were showering I slipped into the bathroom and grabbed your clothes so I could wash them. I brought you some clean ones. They really reeked of highway smell and it was really getting to me. Sorry if I uh, creeped you out.. eheh."

Sure it was weird that she sneaked into the bathroom while I was showering, but... she's a good soul. I think I'm starting to like her better now.

I changed into the clothes she gave me and I helped her cook dinner. Homemade ramen. She told me that she learned to cook from her Dad when she was little. I noticed a picture sitting on the counter adjacent to the stove- it was of Margaret and her Dad. She was wearing a big chef's hat, covering one of her eyes, and riding on her dad's shoulders. She couldn't have been older than four or five.

As we sat down to eat she asked me exactly why I had slept under the highway overhang the night before. So I told her the whole story of how Rigby ditched me with his work, my harassment at the hands of Muscle Man, and Benson's current abusive attitude towards seemingly only me. I left out the bit about how it was worsening my clinical depression- which she still and didn't need to know I had. She then asked me a question she already knew the answer too:

"My god, Mordecai, why didn't you come to me sooner?"

I stared at her for a second.

"Oh... right. Sorry." she looked embarrassed. I was cautious about how I said what I said next.

"Margaret... look. CJ is gone from my life for good. She sent me a post card from South Carolina saying so, and I'm starting to move on. I know you still have feelings for me, and if you want to be with me again, I can't have you be a copy of CJ to make me happy. If you wanna be with me, you need to be _you._ "

Margaret raised an eyebrow and made a face. It was the kind of face that said, "I'm about to say something really friggin' flirtatious and there's nothing you can do about it, you piece of shit."

She said, "What exactly are you saying Mordecai?" with an almost seductive voice. I got nervous.

"D-Don't get any ideas, Margaret. All I'm saying is that you won't get me back by becoming a CJ clone."

Then what she said next really fucked with me.

"Are you giving me another chance?"

Answering that was tough. After sitting in silence for a few seconds, I spoke up.

"I don't know... I just... Ugh. I haven't been sure of much lately..."

"Why don't we take it slow?" she asked me. I pondered for a minute.

"I guess we can. But it needs to be very slow. I'm not exactly in the mood for a full on relationship right now, if you haven't noticed."

She blushed. She is so damn cute when she blushes. We finished our dinner and cleaned all the dishes. We watched some Parks and Recreation for a few hours on the couch with a bowl of popcorn. We didn't cuddle at all or anything, just chilling. Eventually we saw that we had been watching TV until 2 am. I asked Margaret if they had a pull out couch or a futon I could sleep on, or if I could use Eileen's bed.

"No, we don't. And Eileen is very weird about letting people sleep in her bed so I wouldn't recommend it. But... you could sleep in my bed if you want."

I raised an eyebrow. Like, who just casually invites you to sleep in the same bed as them? I thought maybe that's not how she meant it, but of course, I was wrong. She said her bed was big enough to accommodate 2 people. I told her no funny business, with which she agreed.

I found it hard to fall asleep, while Margaret was out like a light almost instantly.

Now, Amethyst, you're probably thinking that I'm gonna say I wasn't sleeping due to contemplating life and such. But no. Margaret actually snores like a _fucking tractor filled with_ bees. At least, she did, until she rolled over in her sleep and put her arm and leg over my body, as if to cuddle me almost. This silenced her snoring for some reason, and while I wasn't the most comfortable with it, it was better than listening what I thought was a running chainsaw all night. I was able to get to sleep.

I slept well, but when I woke up I found she had only gotten closer to my side of the bed. Her head was nuzzled into my neck and her body was half-on top of mine. I literally had to wait until she woke up to get out of bed. It was awkward, considering the first thing I said to her when she woke up was "Can you please get off of my body so I can stand up and take a piss?"

I wouldn't call it an ideal evening but it was sooo much better than spending another day at that hostile workplace I call a park.

Until next time, Amethyst.

* * *

 **A/N Double entry for this one! Longest chapter yet. Threw in some MxM fluff for ya. Figured there should be at least _some_ brighter parts to this story. **


	6. Innocence is Bliss

_**7-16-15**_

Morning, Amethyst. Rigby came back a Tuesday afternoon. Still blowing me off, but he's here. I wound up staying at Margaret's all weekend. When I came back Monday morning Benson didn't waste time chewing me out for 10 minutes, he put gave me a quick scream about giving him earlier notices when taking time off and then made me clean the gutters with Thomas. I tried to make conversation with the Thomas while we worked, but he didn't seem interested in talking. I guess he just doesn't know me well enough. Oh well.

Margaret and I are still taking things slow. I thought I'd feel... I dunno, happier? I mean I did have a crush on her for the longest time before CJ. I am warming up to her again, she kinda gives me something to look forward too during the week. But the fact of the matter is I still feel like crap. I feel like no one wants me at the park anymore. I feel like an outcast. Skips hasn't intervened at all in this whole Benson thing either, which also upsets me. Skips has been like a big brother to me and Rigby since we started working here.

That's the thing, I'm feeling alienated from the people who I felt were a second family to me.

On the bright side of the gloomy spectrum that is my existence, something good did happen yesterday. My Mom showed up yesterday at the park while I was on break, saying she found a medication I could take to help me. She said she found it at a pharmacy on the low income/sketchy side of Twin Peaks. The label on the pill bottle looked a little choppy, but it's the best she's been able to do for years, and I wasn't about to complain. I take them in the morning and at night after dinner. They haven't really taken effect yet, I don't feel any different. I guess it takes a few doses to kick in. I hide it the pills in an old unlabeled pill bottle so no one knows what they are.

I gotta go, Benson's calling me downstairs.

* * *

 _ **7-21-15**_

A-Amethyst? I'm cold. I-I-It's the pills. They're making things worse. I can't sleep. I can't eat. I'm scared all the time. I shake at night. I'm paranoid.

T-These pills... I thought they were working, for at least a day, but then... I woke up 2 days after my last entry and I felt like I was in a horror movie. Muscle Man snuck up on me as a prank and I screamed bloody murder.

If that wasn't bad enough... M-Margaret noticed my ailments and cornered me with questions. I caved in and I told her I was clinically depressed. I had a nervous breakdown.

It took an endless amount of begging to get her to keep quiet, on the condition that I let her try and help me.

It's getting harder to hide it from Benson. Rigby doesn't notice a damn thing about me anymore, but if Benson thinks something's off with me mentally and physically, he'll make me take an "extended leap of absence" without pay. I need the money and I need this job.

I took a few extra doses, thinking it'd cancel out the effects, but it just made it worse. This is no way to live.

* * *

 ** _7-23-15_**

I'm hearing voices. It's 3:26 in the morning, and I'm hearing voices. Little whispers. I'm scared, I'm fucking scared. I haven't taken the pills in 4 days and these side affects aren't wearing off. I don't know what to do, I'm scared. I'm calling Margaret to come get me, I can't stay here.

* * *

 _ **7-24-15**_

Morning Amethyst. Margaret was a little upset that I woke her up in the middle of the night, but when she saw me shaking on the front porch steps of the house, hands over my ears, she got past it. Benson is off today so he won't know I'm gone. I slept at Margaret's last night, as you can see I'm recording this in her room. She's downstairs making pancakes and bacon. I was gonna help her but she demanded I stay in bed. I barely slept last night, but still it was more sleep I've gotten since I first took those damn pills. Oh, and I checked the bottle it came in. It said, in very, _very_ , fine print: "Warning: May cause life long side effects." Fucking perfect.

I'm hearing voices every time I'm within 100 feet of that damn house. And Benson sure as hell won't let me sleep somewhere else on a whim.

I'm grateful for Margaret, she's been very good to me. She's not exactly curing my depression, but she's taking good care of me. I don't know what I would have done if she hadn't come last night.

But still... those damn pills... it feels like something's gotten in my head. Something sinister. It's getting bad. I don't know how much more of this I can take.

Sometimes I just wish I was a kid again... young, eager to learn, not a care in the world.

If there's anything growing up has taught me, it's that blind innocence is bliss.


	7. A Mother's Touch

**_7-31-15_**

...

...

I've started cutting. Directly on my skin, so my feathers would cover them. I used a sharp scrap of aluminum from a Radicola Can.

Margaret hasn't found out. I hid the piece of scrap metal in my shaving kit. By the way, I moved in with her, but not at Eileen's place where she was staying; she had just put the down payment on her new townhouse the day before and moved all her stuff in. Its a small, cozy little place. She made me come with her, it was good walking distance to the park. She talked me into it so she could monitor me more closely. She had to talk to Benson about it. She told him that our relationship was getting serious and he bought it. Rigby was a little off-put by it but he didn't give me too much shit about moving out. Benson hasn't stopped verbally abusing me at work though. He's actually harder on me during the workday now because I don't live there anymore...

I haven't slept in a week; since my last entry. I just lay in bed awake all night while Margaret cuddles up to me. The voices are getting a lot worse. They used to be whispers and now they've grown into clear voices. I hear them all night, and whenever I'm near the park house. They tell me to cut. They tell me that "they" won't ever leave. That wherever I go, "they'll" be there with me as soon as I try to sleep. And whenever I go to that damn house... I just hear laughter. Maniacal laughter. Like some kind of evil hyena.

I started listening to music at night, not even to help me sleep; to drown out the voices. But no matter how loud I turn it up, the voices seep through, and become louder than the music.

I'm scared. I'm scared whoever "they" are they're gonna come for me. I don't know how or why though.

Margaret looks at me different now. She looks more sympathetic than she does loving. She sees me and she sees a broken, shell of a soul. I came home from work yesterday and she told me I looked older. I didn't know what she meant until I looked in the mirror. The bags under my eyes were noticeable. The feathers around my face looked slightly faded and discolored. My complexion made me out to look kinda sickly. I looked like I had been in a war.

That poor woman is at her wits' end trying to ease my pain. It's not really working, but she's helping me to live day by day.

I've learned to appreciate the world around me. When I walk around town, I don't look around for pizza places or arcades or comic book shops like I used too; I pay attention to nature. The trees in the park. The natural, vibrant green color of the leaves and grass. The shade of blue that graces the sky every day. I study it, almost. It distracts me from my mind.

Rigby isn't ignoring me anymore. He's cracking jokes to me at work. It's nice to hear him tell me jokes and stuff again, but I just think it's weird that he ignores me for almost a month and then acts like it was nothing. I suppose I should be happy he's speaking to me again, but like... I just don't feel good about it at all. I can't explain it.

I really hate Benson. He's become a freaking slave driver. Yesterday there was some Middle School Soccer Game at a field on the other side of the park and he wanted us to bring four really heavy water kegs to the field. We were loading it onto the cart when he told us he wanted us to walk them over. Keep in mind it was 101 degrees and sunny. He didn't even give a reason, when we asked why he said "just carry them to the field like the pack mules you are without any complaints or you're _FIRED!"_

I feel like I'm hanging by a thread. I'm gonna go into Margaret's tiny backyard to chill and listen to music. Bye Amethyst.

* * *

 **[Entering traditional story format]**

 _Margaret's POV_

Mordecai walked down the stair, iPod and shades in hand. "Hey Mags, I'm gonna chill out in the backyard and listen to some tunes for a while" he said to me as I read a book on the couch

"M'kay hun, by the way do you wanna go see Jurassic World tonight?" I asked. I knew he loved the Jurassic Park movies, so I thought seeing a movie could take his mind off things.

"Nah, I'd rather stay home tonight. Maybe some other time." he said as he walked out the back door.

That was the response I've been getting a lot lately. I was only able to get him out once this week, besides work; that was because I dragged him grocery shopping. I feel so bad for him. My poor boy is going through an awful time in his life. I'm at the end of my rope trying to make things easier for him. I tried the whole "pamper him/wait on him" technique, but that didn't work so well. He still insists on helping with the cooking and cleaning and such (even if he rarely ate the food he helped cook). I think it's because it gives him something to do to take his mind off things. So I figured I'd let him. I'm also having him channel his emotions into lyrics and music, and while it serves as an outlet he enjoys, it's not making things better. Mordecai said his only family member who knew about his depression was his mother. I think I'll give her a call.

I picked up the phone and dialed for Mordecai's parent's house. A deep voice picked up on the other end. Must've been his Dad.

"Hello?"

"Hi, this is Margaret Smith, is Mrs. Quintel home?"

"Why yes she is! And by the way I've seen you on the news, you're one of my favorite anchors! Didn't you date my boy Mordecai for a brief time?"

"Aw, that means a lot Mr. Quintel! And yes, I did! We actually got back together some time ago. He moved in with me."

"Haha, well isn't that grand? I'll put his mother on the phone right now!"

For someone who didn't recognize depression as an actual disease, Mordecai's Dad sure seemed like a nice guy.

"Margaret! So nice to see you! How you been? I've heard you're back with Mordecai, I'm so happy to hear it! What can I do for you?" Mordecai's Mom's voice was soft and filled with joy. It made me happy to hear it.

"Heh, actually Mrs. Quintel-"

"Oh please, call me Jeanne!"

"Okay, Jeanne- I called you because something serious has arisen. Mordecai isn't doing to well. It's his depression, he's deteriorating fast. I'm so worried about him, I'm at my wits end trying to ease his pain. The medication you brought him only made him worse. He told me he's hearing voices, he isn't sleeping at night, I was wondering if you could come down and talk to him or something, and maybe see if you can help me at least ease his pain."

"Oh... I was afraid this might happen. I knew that pharmacy was sketchy, I feel awful. It was all I could afford for him."

"He knows you meant well, Jeanne, but I think right now some comforting time with his mother could do him some good."

"I'll come over right away, what's you're address?"

"41 Summit Court." I replied.

"See you in 30 minutes" she hung up. I glanced at Mordecai through the screen door that led into the backyard. He was sitting on a lawn chair, he looked so peaceful. I knew on the inside his mind was a madhouse.

* * *

Jeanne arrived promptly, thank god. She greeted me at the door with a warm smile. She had a tupperware container with her.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Homemade sugar cookies. It was the recipe I made a lot when Mordy was a toddler. I stopped making them so much when he became a teenager. Where is he?"

"He's in the back, I'll go grab him, go ahead and make yourself at home." I said as I walked into the backyard.

I walked up to Mordecai from behind and kissed him on the forehead to grab his attention. He took out one of his earbuds.

"Huh?"

"Mordecai, there's someone here to see you. And they brought cookies." I said. He got up and followed me into the house.

"There's my special guy! I'm so sorry the meds I got you made things worse!" Mordecai's Mom said as she got up and hugged Mordecai.

"Mom? What are you doing here?" he seemed pleased to see his mother. It was nice to see him smile.

"Margaret called me up told me my Mordy was having a rough time" she said as she lightly pinched his cheek. I thought it was cute how she still sorta babies Mordecai. "Let's sit down. Mordecai, I want you tell me everything that's been troubling you. I also brought your favorite sugar cookies from when you were little."

Mordecai started from the top and told her everything. About Benson, about Rigby, about CJ, about the voices, everything.

"...and I can't sleep, I can't eat, I always feel cold at night and I can't stop shaking... also the voices ring out in my head every time I try to sleep. I feel like a zombie. I don't what to do with myself." He said as he finished up. He was starting to sound like a zombie too; his tone of voice was almost monotone.

"Oh honey, you're beginning to look like one too. Look at you! You look like you've aged..." she said as she hugged Mordecai.

"I've been getting that a lot lately.." He said as he glanced at the ground.

"Y'know Mordecai, when I was a teenager, and I was feeling depressed, I used to read my grandmother- your great-grandmother's diary- and it'd help. She was a very bright, very funny lady. I brought it with me and I want you to start reading it." she said as she handed Mordecai a very old book.

"Thanks Mom, I appreciate it." replied Mordecai.

"No problem, sweetie. Now if you excuse me, I'd like to have a conversation with your lady friend in private." she said as she gestured to talk to me in the backyard. As we walked out, Mordecai cracked open the diary.

Outside, I turned to Jeanne.

"What can I do to help him? I.. I love your son, Jeanne. I want to help him."

"I'm glad you do. Especially because I can't always be there anymore... Mordecai can be a tough cookie to crack. I think the best way _you_ can help him would be to nurture him. Make him feel like someone out there cares, make him feel protected. As if he were your own child, but obviously you'd want to do it in a more boyfriend-girlfriend manner so it doesn't come off as weird." the old avian explained. I felt a bit disappointed.

"But I've already tried to do that! I've been reminding him constantly that I'm here for him."

"Don't do that silly, he'll get annoyed with that eventually. I want you to act protective of him. Hold him in your arms, make him his favorite breakfast every now and then, that kind of thing. Oh, that reminds me, make sure he eats better. Don't be afraid to push him with that. I'm starting to see his ribcage."

"Uh, god, I know, he's starting to look like a Holocaust prisoner... those damn pills are killing his appetite and the side affects just won't wear off. Apparently the bottle said they side affects permanent." I said. Jeanne sighed at this.

"Appetite or not, you feed that boy! Look Margaret, I know you can pull Mordecai through this. As long as you love him, he can do anything."

I blushed at this. "I hope you're right, Mama Quintel." I said as I glanced at Mordecai reading the diary.

* * *

Mordecai's Mom left awhile ago and Mordecai helped me make dinner. We made beef stew served over pappardelle pasta. Mordecai ate a very, very, small portion. I knew he didn't have the appetite, but I made him eat a bigger helping. He was reluctant at first, but he eventually ate it. I made sure he ate it slow so he wouldn't get sick from overeating (which is ironic because he's borderline malnourished).

That night, I woke up to the sound of crying. It was 2 AM. It was raining hard outside, and I noticed Mordecai wasn't in my arms like normal. In fact, he wasn't in the bed at all. My eyes adjusted to the darkness and I spotted Mordecai in the corner of the room, curled up on the floor. He was rocking back the forth and he kept repeating "go away, shut up, leave me alone" through a seemingly endless stream of tears.

"Mordecai!" I exclaimed as I rushed to his side.

"Th-They're here Margaret, and they're s-so loud.. arghh..." he wept out. It was a heartbreaking sight.

"Where are they Mordecai?" I asked, alarmed. He turned his slowly until his eyes met mine. A flash of lightning struck as he pointed his hand to his head. I noticed something off about his arms, though. His blue feathers were stained purple. I then noticed he had cuts going up his left arm, and a piece of shrapnel in his right hand. I gasped. He was cutting himself!

"They're s-so loud... ughhhh!" Mordecai groaned as he put another gash in his arm. "I th-think the blood scares them, every time I do it, they get a little quiet, but then they come right back..."

All of the sudden, Mordecai broke away from my hold and flopped onto the ground. He started shouting in agony.

"AHHH! GET OUT OF MY HEAD! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HEAD! YOU'RE! TOO! LOUD!"

As he continued to shout and scream in agony, I sprinted downstairs at the speed of light and grabbed an empty mop bucket and filled with with water. I burst back into the bedroom, Mordecai still sprawled out on the floor, blood gushing out his arm. I flipped on the lights and I threw the water on him. In hindsight it might have been better to contact 911, but I was scared. I wasn't thinking straight. I luckily got the problem under control. His screaming stopped, and I pulled him into my arms.

"Uhh...nyuhhhh.. my head..." he moaned out.

"Shhh, shhh, my baby, it's all okay, everything's going to be okay..." I cooed. The blood mixed with the water and stained my night gown. I took him into the bathroom and pulled out my first aid kit. I sat him down on the closed toilet seat I cleaned all the cuts, there must have been at least 15 of them going up his arm. I stitched up the worst cuts (luckily only three or four of them were deep enough to warrant stitching) and wrapped the wrest in gauze. I went through 3 rolls. Almost his entire arm was wrapped up. When I finished my handiwork, I took a good look at him. His body was stained with the blood from his arm. He was barely conscious. It was too much for me, I broke down in tears. I pulled him close and I cried into his shoulder. Then I realized. He wasn't barely conscious because he was sleeping.. he's suffering extreme blood loss.

I called 911.

* * *

 **A/N:** **This was NOT a suicide attempt. This was Mordecai going crazy over the voices and losing sight of what he was doing.**


	8. In (Girl)Friends We Trust!

**_8-2-15_**

Hey Amethyst. The past couple days have been a tad rough on me, but things got a bit better.

Anywho, two nights ago I was lying awake in bed (like normal). Margaret's cuddling up to me, it's raining cats and dogs outside, and the voices were up to there usual nocturnal shenanigans. But it got... I dunno, violent? Like the voices kept getting louder and angrier and it almost sounded like radio static. After that I blacked out. I woke up the next morning in a hospital bed. I wasn't really surprised, I mean with antics Rigby and I live through, it's not that far fetched. One time I woke up in a dumpster and found Rigby using a pizza box as a hat.

Like I was saying. Hospital bed. There was an IV attached to me and my right arm was almost completely covered in gauze wrap. Margaret was standing over, me looking like she hadn't slept most of the night, which she hadn't. I asked her what happened and it turned out I went completely AWOL in the middle of the night, screaming, cutting, crying... it sounded scary. I mean I know I haven't exactly been the picture of mental health lately but that just sounds terrifying. I didn't even _remember_ it going down.I apologized to her, graciously of course, for having to endure that. I really need to make it up to her later.

Moving on, Rigby and Benson are back on my side. Sorta. Margaret called Benson yesterday (after the hospital released me) about his behavior towards me recently, and to my surprised he almost immediately apologized. Apparently Maellard's been on his ass a lot lately about the financial status of the park, and he's been on edge. He said he'd soften up though.

As for Rigby, turns out he wasn't blowing me off for no reason. He's been busy helping Eileen with some big sea turtle refuge. Something about building a sea turtle refuge where that freaky turtle spa used to be. And that vacation he took? It was to help construct it. Margaret talked me into telling Rigby about my issues lately and he told me he felt awful for neglecting me whilst helping Eileen. After I got home to the hospital, I went over to the park house to play Dig Champs.

The doctors also gave me some kind of miracle drug that reversed the effects of those sketchy happy pills. I'm sleeping now- well, not sleeping very well, but sleeping. My appetite also came back. Last night after our Dig Champs marathon, Rigby and I ate six pizzas. I ate four. No, seriously, I ate four whole pizza. I mean, I threw up after two because I was eating so fast and then ate the other two, but I still ate them. And cheesy crust. A new Dominoe's opened up nearby and we decided to indulge.

The voices are still in my head, but they don't speak as often. It's a little worse that way to be honest. Because the few times throughout the day when they do speak, I'm usually not expecting it and it scares the H outta me. Before it was like, a constant flow of noise. Now it's just two-minute bursts scattered throughout the day. I suppose it's better than having some weird brain demon screaming in your head all damn day.

Things are actually kinda better right now. And yet...

I can't help but feel something bad's gonna happen soon.

'Till next time, Amethyst.

* * *

 **A/N:** **This chapter is setting the stage for the beginning of the end, hence why it is so short compared to the last couple chapters. Prepare for some psychedelic mind journeys. Expect the next few chapters to be mostly in traditional story format.**

 **Also! I will feature two different endings for this story. A good one, and a bad one. (which MAY OR MAY NOT end in suicide. do not commit yourself to any predictions/headcanons and get disappointed when it doesn't end the way you thought it would.)**


	9. Headaches and Laughter

**A/N:** Before I move on with the story, I'd like to reach out and personally thank **TheForgottenSoldier** for giving quality constructive criticism for my recent chapters and helping me to better the story! I owe you one, buddy :)

* * *

 ** _[Entering traditional story format]_**

 ** _[Mordecai's POV]_**

I opened my eyes and I assessed my surroundings. As I groggily stood up, I found myself standing on a giant white platform floating through what seemed to be... space?

"Where am I?" I thought to myself. Just then, I heard maniacal laughter.

 _"Muahahahahaha!"_ the voice rang out in the distance. I recognized it as one of the voices.

"Who's there? Reveal yourself!" I said, quickly looking around. What was this place? Where was the voice coming from?

 _"Hehehe... Oh, Mooordecai~?"_ the voice whispered. I was getting scared.

"Leave me alone!" I shouted into nothingness. I heard the laughter again. It seemed closer. It sounded like... insanity. Almost demonic. Like a hyena.

"HEHEHAHAHAHAHAHA!" it screeched behind me. I turned around and found a figure standing behind me.

I recognized it as myself, but I looked... different. I looked bloody and pale. Like a fresh corpse.

 ** _"Like what you see?"_** it snarled at me. The sight was too much for me.

"AHHHHHHH!"

* * *

 ** _Margaret's house. 2:47 AM._**

 ** _[Mordecai's POV]_**

"AHHH!" I yelped as I shot up in bed. I was covered in cold sweat, panting relentlessly. I assessed my surroundings and realized I was in Margaret's room. Relieved, I was able to breathe.

Another damn nightmare.

I looked over at Margaret, who was still sleeping. Thank god I didn't wake her. I climbed out of bed, and pulled the camera I knew as Amethyst. I turned it on and set it on the desk shelf where I normally put it. I hit record.

* * *

 ** _8-7-15_**

Hey Amethyst. It's almost 3 am. I'm speaking quietly because Margaret's asleep. It's been almost a week since I made another entry... I should quit slacking off with them.

I had another nightmare. Fourth one this week. I'm actually starting to hear these voices more so in my dreams than when I'm awake. It's almost like some Nightmare on Elm Street shit. I hate sleeping now... I'm starting to live in fear that I'll dream about these voices every time I go to sleep. There's something wrong with me, I feel like a fucking freak...

And that's not all. They've manifested into some being... a corpse-like version of me. It's gross to look at. I hate it!

And since I'm here making an entry I may as well give an update. I got some bad news from my Mom the other night.

My Dad was cleaning out the attic and he found my Mom's old copy of the medical records from when I got diagnosed with my mental disorder. He was disgusted that my mother had "bought into it" and that I was "stupid enough to think I had it". When my Mom called me to tell me that he found out last night, my Dad took the phone mid call and told me that I was using my depression to get away with being a slacker. He just went on and on about how much I had disappointed him.

He said... He said he had no son.

Mom said he went to go live with my Aunt for a while because he "can't be around the two of us for a while."

I feel like shit. I feel like there's a hole in my heart. I'm gonna go back to sleep, I don't wanna talk about this anymore.

* * *

 **[ _Entering traditional story format]_**

 ** _The Next Morning._**

 ** _[Margaret's POV]_**

I woke up at 8:30 with a start. It was Mordecai's day off, so I figured I'd let him sleep in. It's my day off too, but I don't really like sleeping in all that much. I got out of bed and put on some sweatpants and a tank top. Lazy day wardrobe. I went downstairs and poured a bowl of cereal because I didn't feel like cooking, and put on some TV.

Mordecai came trudging down the stairs roughly 40 minutes later. He was rubbing his temples.

"Can you please turn down the TV, Margaret?" he asked.

"Good morning to you too sleepyhead. Everything ok?" I asked as I lowered the volume.

"I have an awful migraine. It feels like 9.0 earthquake just hit my brain." he said, still rubbing his temples. "We got any Advil?" he asked.

"Cupboard above the stove."

"Thanks" he said as he grabbed the bottle out of the shelf. After he took them, I put my hand to his forehead to check if he had fever. Nothing. Mordecai chuckled at me.

"Heh, you don't need to take my temperature, Mags. I'm not a kid." he said. Mags huh? That's new. I like it!

"I just want to make sure favorite guy isn't getting sick!" I said sweetly as I kissed him on the forehead. He blushed.

"I'm gonna make some coffee." he said, getting up from his chair.

"So how's your Mom doing?" I asked, in regards to his Dad finding out about his disorder the other night. Mordecai sighed.

"She's really upset. She tried reasoning with him but he wouldn't have any of it." he said, sadly.

"I guess you just can't change some people's minds.." I said, staring off into space. Mordecai sighed once more.

"I just wish he'd be more open minded. On the surface my Dad is the nicest guy out there. When I was 7 he let a homeless man stay in our home for 2 months until my Dad helped him find a job. He was on his feet 6 years later and now he sends us Christmas cards every year. But my Dad is the kind of guy who was raised to believe a specific set of ideals and never strays away from them." he explained. I put my hand on his shoulder.

"Mordecai, I know things are still rough but I promise you, things will get better." I told him confidently. He looked at the ground.

"I hope you're right."

* * *

 ** _[3rd Person]_**

Mordecai spent the rest of the day with Margaret. Despite his migraine, they took a leisurely walk through the neighborhood. They came up on a pond Margaret began skipping rocks. Mordecai picked one up and was about to toss it when he heard the same evil laugh from his dream ring out in his head for a brief moment. It was but a reminder of the reality of things currently, but he did his best to shake it off. He joined Margaret in skipping rocks.

He could feel in the pit in his gut growing.

* * *

 **Sorry I'm changing the POV's and shit so much, I'm sure it's getting annoying. I know it's annoying me having to type them. Anyway, until next time guys.**


	10. Long Drives and Gin Flasks

**10 Chapters! Woo-hoo!**

* * *

 _ **2 Weeks Later.**_

[Mordecai's POV]

I've decided to stop the whole video diary. Ever since the whole thing with my Dad I haven't really felt like making entries. I didn't have the energy to do it. I haven't had the energy to do much except whatever it was I had to do at work. Speaking of work, today, Rigby and I were cleaning out the fountain when he started asking me questions.

"Hey Mordecai?" he asked.

"What's up dude?"

"I know you said that you kept quiet about the whole depression thing because of your Dad, but like, you could have easily told us about it here. Your Dad isn't ever around the park, why didn't you talk to someone earlier? Was there like, another reason why you kept quiet?" he asked. I thought for a moment.

"That's a tough question to answer, Rigby. Truth be told, I'm not really sure. I guess there wasn't a reason to it so much as it was a feeling I had, that kept me from speaking. I guess I felt like it wasn't worth it, trying to articulate my feelings. Plus I knew it'd just make everyone around me feel sad for me. And all of you were always usually so happy, I didn't want to disrupt that. I guess I wanted to keep that happy aura around me even though thing's weren't right in my mind. But it never really kept me from lying awake in bed until the early hours of the morning, trying to decipher my feelings in my mind. Trying to reflect on what's happened in my life. I guess I've always just overthought it." I explained.

"So is that like, also why you're depressed?" he asked.

"Sorta. I'm not really sure. Most people don't know it, or even reject the idea, but people can be depressed for no clear reason. It's a mental disorder, really. And most mental disorders usually happen to random people for no real reason. It just happens. People just have the disorders. It's weird." I elaborated.

"Oh, okay." said Rigby, satisfied with his answer. Just then, my cell phone started ringing. It was my Mom.

"Hey Mom, what's going on?" I asked.

"Oohh, I have good news Mordy!" she said. This ought to be good, she seemed excited.

"I finally got your Dad to come around- well, sort of. He said he'd be willing to meet up and talk out your differences! We organized a little getaway! Starting tomorrow, you, your father, Aunt Betty and Uncle Tim, and Grandma and Grandpa will be spending the next two weeks down the shore! You guys will be able to reconnect and get them all to finally recognize your disorder once and for all!"

 _Fuck._

"I, uh, well.." I stammered.

"Isn't that great, honey?" she said, trying to get a positive reaction out of me.

"Well, uh, not really Mom!" I said, starting to get frustrated.

"Why not hun?"

"You know how stubborn Dad's side of the family can be! They're gonna drive me insane! I can't just leave work and go do this." I explained.

"Sorry, Mordy. Dad and I already rented out the shore house. Everything's already organized. Dad's picking you up tomorrow morning." she said.

"Why didn't you tell me about this like a week in advance?" I said, alarmingly.

"Well, I would have, but your Dad wouldn't agree to anything until earlier today. Sorry, sweetie." she said sympathetically.

"How am I supposed to get off work for two weeks out of the blue?" asked Mordecai.

"Tell your boss that your Great Uncle Jeremiah passed away."

"Mom, I don't _have_ a Great Uncle Jeremiah!" I told her.

"He doesn't need to know that. And I'll be willing to lie, this one time, if your boss needs to cross check."

I sighed. Looks like there was no getting out of this.

"Ugh... alright Mom, I'll do it."

"Don't worry Mordy, the two weeks will be over before you know it! And just think about how good it'll be for the family!" she said.

"I know Mom. I gotta go, Rigby and I are cleaning the fountain." I said as I hung up.

"What's up dude?" asked Rigby.

"I have to go on a "Family Shore Retreat" with my Dad and my Aunt and Uncle and Grandparents; who by the way, are all extremely mentalist. Like, my Dad is mentalist towards people with mental disorders and disabilities; my Grandparents and the like are mentalist towards freaking everything! Not to mention ableist!"

"That's rough, buddy. How long you gonna be away?"

"Two weeks, and I leave tomorrow morning! My mom told me to lie about a family death to get out of work. Truth be told, I don't think I ever expected her to tell me to do that." I told him.

"I'm sorry man, I wish I could help." he said, sympathetically. "Hey, Dig Champs Marathon after work?"

I smirked at that. "Yeah, I'd like that."

* * *

 ** _Later that Day._**

Before I got around to Dig Champs with Rigby, I had to tell Benson about my "family tragedy." I walked into his office to find him neck deep in paper work, stressed as ever. This might be painful.

"Hey, uh, Bens-"

"Unless somebody died or Mr. Maellard's outside ready to give me a promotion, I don't wanna hear it." he said quickly.

"Uh, actually Benson, someone did die... someone in my family." I told him. Benson unclicked his pen and put it down. He looked at me with the utmost sympathy. I guess he was someone who had serious respect for the dead.

"What? Who died, are you okay?" he asked.

"My, uh... Great Uncle Jeremiah.." I decided I may as well spin him a little tale. I was lying about the whole thing anyway. "..He was a World War 2 veteran. He was 101 years old. He was, uh.. really funny. Great sense of humor. He was a really positive impact on my early childhood." I told him.

"Oh Mordecai, I'm so sorry to hear this. When is the funeral?"

"The funeral is the day after tomorrow, in, uh... Nebraska."

"Nebraska?" he asked.

"Yeah, he lived in Omaha. I'm supposed to fly out there tomorrow with my parents, so.. I'm gonna need at least two weeks off." I said.

"Hmm, Mordecai, you know you've already used all your days off and sick days as well."

"I know, Benson, but he was like, a really huge impact on me.. I uh, need to be with my family and stuff." I said. Benson sighed.

"Tell you what, I'll let you do this, but I'm gonna need to dock your pay check by half for the two weeks you'll be away." he said.

"That's fair. Thanks Benson!" I said as I rushed out.

"Feel better, Mordecai!" he called out as I made my leave.

* * *

I joined Rigby on the couch and picked up a controller.

"So, did Benson buy the whole Great Uncle thing?" asked Rigby.

"Yeah, surprisingly. Turns out he has mad respect for the death of loved ones or some junk like that." I replied.

"Niccceee! Anyway, I call player one."

"Aw what? But I'm always player one. And player two sucks!" I exclaimed.

"Heheheh, you snooze you loose bro!" he chuckled as we started the first of many games that night.

* * *

 _ **The Next Morning**_

Rigby woke up as I was packing my things for the next two weeks.

"Morning dude, when you getting out of here?" he asked, groggily.

"15 minutes. My Dad is picking me up."

"Damn. In that case, I wanna give you something to take with you." he said as we went fishing around in the closet.

"What is it?" I asked. He came out of the closet and handed me a blank flask. I shook it around; there was fluid inside. I opened the cap and smelled it. It was potent.

"Dude, what the hell is this?" I asked him.

"Gin. Just in case your family gets on his ass." he said. I looked at him blankly.

"You're a good friend, Rigby." I said. Just then, a loud honk rang out from outside.

"Is that him?" asked Rigby as he peered out the window. There was an old station wagon parked outside the house.

"Yep." I said as I unscrewed the flask and took a swig. I wasn't big on drinking but I figured I'd make an acception. I grabbed my bag and said goodbye to Rigby and the rest of the park crew. I climbed into the shotgun seat of the car. My Dad was uneasy.

"Eheheh, heeyyyy Dad..." I said, awkwardly.

"Good morning, Mordecai." he said, damn near monotone.

It was gonna be a long ride to the coast.


	11. A Shack on the Beach

**_[Mordecai's POV]_**

The car ride to the coast was silent. Dad didn't look at me the whole ride. I was able to sneak a good swig out of the flask when we stopped for gas. It was almost noon by the time we arrived. The house itself was old looking. A two story beach bungalow. I looked at my phone to check the exact time, 11:41. I noticed I had little to no cell service. Great. It was only when we pulled up that my Dad decided to say something to me.

"Now, Mordecai," he began. I was noticing how he was avoiding calling me 'son'. Salt in the wounds Dad, salt in the wounds. "I'm sure your mother told you about how the purpose of this trip was for you to educate us on your, 'disease'. That will not be the case here." he said.

 _Great, here we fucking go._ I thought to myself.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"It means that me, your grandparents, and aunt and uncle are going to use the two weeks we will spending together to give _you_ an education on how this whole 'depression' malarky works in the real world." he explained.

 _Translation: we're going to be cold, mentalist douchebags and act like we're doing you some kind of a favor._

"I don't think Mom would like that very mu-" I began. My father cut me off.

"What your mother wants doesn't apply. She isn't here. You play by my rules. Speaking of rules, let's get some straight right now." he said condescendingly.

"Excuse me?" I asked, sensing a big heaping load of bullshit about to pour out of my old man's gullet.

"Ground rules. Rule #1, you will not talk back. For every time you talk back, you will get a strike. Get three strikes, you spend the night in the cellar." he said matter-o'- factly. I looked at him like he was crazy.

"What the fuck? Dad, I'm not a little kid. I'm 23 years old. This is ridiculous." I spat.

"That's strike one right there. Also, rule #2, you will not swear. You know how Grandpa gets when he years young people cuss." he said. I rubbed my temples and took a deep breath. I figured if I played his little game, things would go more smoothly.

"Fine. What's the rest of your dumb rules?" I asked.

"Rule #3, you will not leave the property. Rule #4, you will abide by a curfew of 11 PM and wake up every morning at 7 AM. Rule #5, you will listen and speak when spoken to. And lastly, rule #7, you will not eat outside of our traditional three course meal times. Any questions?" he said. He sounded like a damn drill sergeant.

"Yeah, you gonna take my phone away too?" I asked in a mocking tone.

"That was originally going to be rule #8, but seeing as we don't have wifi and there's practically no cell service here, there wasn't any point."

"Also, what exactly is the point of your little cookie-cutter rules, here?" I asked.

"It's part of our plan to whip you into shape. Now-" he began.

"Hold up, whip me into shape? What are you talking about?" I asked.

"I'm gonna clear all that depression nonsense from your head and turn you into a responsible, level headed individual. Now let's go inside. The others will get here by supper time. I'll show you to your room." he said, signaling for me to follow him into the house.

* * *

 ** _Meanwhile, at Cheezers._** _[3rd Person POV]_

"He went _where!?"_ exclaimed Margaret in the already noisy and crowded Cheezer's Restaurant. Rigby brought her to Cheezers to break the news to her of where Mordecai would be spending the next two weeks. He knew she wouldn't take it very well.

"Yeeeaahhhh.. that's why he didn't go back to your place last night." said Rigby.

"Rigby, it's not just my place anymore, it's Mordecai's too. He's been helping pay the bills with what money he's been able to spare. And how can he not tell me he got dragged into this!?" exclaimed Margaret, putting her head on the table.

"Because he knew you'd be upset, I guess. And if there's anything he's scared of, it's his Dad. If you showed up, being all like 'I won't let you take Mordecai' it probably wouldn't be pretty. Mordecai's Dad is a nice guy, but get on his bad side, and he'll be your worst nightmare!" Rigby replied.

"Ugghhh I know... but god knows what he's gonna have to endure with all those ignorant family members of his! I'm gonna call him and check up on how he's doing." said Margaret, pulling out her phone. She dialed Mordecai's number and put it to her ear. She then took it away from the side of her head, looking confused and upset.

"Aw, what? It went right to voicemail!" she exclaimed as she put her phone on the table and sunk into her seat.

"He probably doesn't have any cell service where he is." said Rigby.

"You're probably right..." said Margaret, bleakly.

"Hey Margaret, can I ask you something?" asked Rigby.

"What?"

"Why are you so protective of Mordecai? Like, the first time you two dated, before the whole college thing, you weren't so protective of him. But now you are. Why?" asked Rigby, curiously.

Margaret was a little dumbfounded at this. Since when did Rigby ask such meaningful questions?

"When I came back last winter, I was hoping to piece things back together with Mordecai. But then I found out he was with CJ and things got difficult and awkward, as you know. I still had a feelings for him. The whole time, I did. Even when I thought I didn't, I did. And I regretted leaving him that night so terribly much. And now that I have him back, I feel like I need to hang onto him. And I do, I do want to hang onto him. And protect him, and be there for him. Yeah, we're taking it slow and I'm not complaining, but I just want to rebuild what we used to have." explained Margaret.

"Wow, Margaret. You really do care about him." said Rigby.

"Yeah! and that's not the only reason why I'm so protective of him either. The other reason is that mental state he was in when we got back together. He was falling apart. It was awful. Sure, he got better when we cleared all the stuff up with you and Benson; better at hiding it, that is." said Margaret.

"What do you mean, hiding it?" asked Margaret.

"He only seemed better because he got better at suppressing it again. Every time I looked into his eyes after that, I could tell he was still falling apart. I don't know what it is, but that boy carries a heavy weight on his shoulders. Lately he's been walking the line between coping and insanity. Clearing things up with you and Benson only delayed him from dropping the huge emotion bomb that is the weight he's been carrying on his shoulders. And now that he's alone with his Dad and his like-minded family members, god knows what will happen!" exclaimed the frantic robin.

"How do you know all this stuff?" asked Rigby.

"I took psychology courses throughout high school and at college. I also do a lot of research on it for fun, but journalism is my main thing. Interesting stuff, psychology. Mordecai's not a hard puzzle to piece together. He was a code I cracked as soon as he moved in with me." said Margaret. Rigby looked at her like a different person. This certainly was not a side of Margaret he's ever seen, and yet, he found it somehow fitting that Margaret was interested in psychology. Margaret put her head in her hand as she took a sip from her medium-sized cup of soda.

"Look, Margaret. Mordecai will be fine. His Dad's a complete tool, sure, but he wouldn't hurt him." said Rigby.

"I'm not worried about Mr. Quintel hurting Mordecai, Rigby." she said. Rigby raised an eyebrow.

"I'm worried about Mordecai hurting himself." said Margaret, solemnly.

* * *

 _ **Back at the Shore**_ _[Mordecai's POV]_

My room was surprisingly decent judging by how much my Dad hated my guts right now. TV with 11 channels, soft bed, right next to the upstairs bathroom, and a decent view of the beach from my window.

Mr. Buttmunch called me downstairs as the rest of my 'loving' family arrived. I put on my best shit-eating grin and greeted them nicely.

"Grandma, Grandpa! Long time no see, eh?" I said. My arms were extended for a hug, but I got nothing.

"Evening, Mordecai." my Grandpa said monotonously. Grandma said nothing.

 _Shit, cold shoulder from my own grandparents._ I thought to myself. My Aunt and Uncle followed in with their luggage.

"Aunt Betty, Uncle Tim! How long has it been? Need help with those bags?" I said, gesturing to grab the suitcase Aunt Betty had with her. She jerked it away from me.

"No thank you, Mordecai. We're fine." she said. At least she spoke with some emotion.

After they all got settled in, we sat down for dinner. Dad made spaghetti.

We ate in silence for about three minutes until Grandma spoke up.

"Mordecai," she began in a very serious tone. "I know you're probably offset by all this, but we want to help you wipe this from your mind." she said.

"She's right Mordecai," began Uncle Tim, "This whole idea that depression is an actual disease or disorder or whatever is completely nonsensical! It's nothing more than an emotion that's synonymous with sad."

My Dad then chimed in with his input.

"Listen to your Uncle, Mordecai. He's absolutely right."

"Oh, I'm sure he is." I said, a little more sarcastic than I had hoped to come off as. That earned me a look from Grandma.

"William, why don't you tell Mordecai about your little plan for him?" Grandma said to my Dad. Here we go.

"Wonderful idea, Mom. Mordecai, when my parents were raising me and I told 'em I was feeling down, you know what they did? They put me to work." he started.

 _Oh, fucking bite me._ I thought bitterly.

"Hard, manual labor. None of that sissy grunt work you do at the park, I'm talking real character building labor. And that's exactly what you'll be doing every day for the next two weeks. Hard work cleanses the soul and focuses the mind on being productive. I suggest you get to bed early, because your Uncle Tim and I will be getting you up early tomorrow. It'll be harsh, Mordecai. But you'll come out a man. You'll come out my son once more." he explained.

 _You'll come out my son once more_.

That sentence stung in my ears like a million truck horns.

* * *

 _ **The Next Morning**_ _[Mordecai's POV]_

I woke up to a sudden shock of coldness. I shot up in my bed and looked up to see my Dad and Uncle Tim standing over me. Dad had a bucket in his hands. They had thrown water on me!

"What _gives?_ " I said, gritting my teeth.

"What _gives_ is that we're getting you a head start on your first day, boy." said Uncle Tim. I looked out the window. The sun was barely coming up. So much for that 7 AM wake up time.

I had little time to get ready as my Dad kept badgering me to get down the stairs. Uncle Time sat me down at the table and my Dad plopped down my "breakfast". Two pieces of toast and one of those raw egg smoothies that the people in movies drink. I ate the toast quickly and turned to my Dad.

"You're making me drink this, aren't you?" I asked. He nodded. _Fuck._ I pinched my nose and downed the tall glass. It was gross, I think I felt an eggshell...

I followed my Uncle and father out on the short path to the beach. We walked along the shore for about half a mile. We came up on a really old shack. The drywall was completely gone, and it was held up by plywood. It looked like it could fall over with a good push. My Dad turned to me.

"Mordecai, today you'll be rebuilding this shed. As you can see, it's been completely knocked down." he said.

I looked at him, and then I looked at the shed. It was completely standing. I looked back at my Dad like he was mad.

"Uh... but it's not knocked down?" I asked him, confused. He then turned to my Uncle.

"Tim? Would you please?" he said as my Uncle Tim completely knocked over the shed. Cheap shot Dad, cheap shot. "As I was saying. You will have until 4 o'clock today to finish it. If you fail, you will be excluded from dinner tonight and will have to eat whatever leftovers, if any, that we may have. Good luck Mordecai."

I flipped them off as soon as they turned their backs to walk away. They left me with a bottle of water and box of tools.

I could already tell that this day was gonna blow.

* * *

 _ **4 O'Clock** [Mordecai's POV]_

I worked all day. The sun was blistering. It must have been 90 degrees today at noon. I checked my watch, it was about 4. I looked at the fruits of my labor. If you could call it that, anyway. The "shack" I had built looked like it would blow away in the wind as soon as a strong enough gust came. It was looking better earlier but then some wind actually _did_ come and the whole thing got knocked down, so I had to start over. It. sucked. It wasn't any easier due to my lacking in architectural skills. But at this point, I was too exhausted to care. I was sweaty, overheated, and dehydrated. That bottle of water was not enough for the whole day. I was sprawled out on the sand, laying on my back next to the poorly built then, two figures appeared over me. It was Dad and Uncle Tim.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, Mordecai. What is this? Sleeping on the job?" said Uncle Tim as I stood up and dusted the sand off myself.

"And this shack?" started my Dad, "This will blow away in the wind! In fact.." he said as he proceeded to push my shack down. I held my head in defeat.

"Scraps for you tonight, boy. Let's get going." said my Dad, coldly.

* * *

 _ **10 O'Clock**_ _[Mordecai's POV]_

I pulled my camera out of my bag. I thought I'd stop making video diary entries, but it's not like I had anything better to do. There wasn't anything good on TV, and if there was, I wouldn't know. The reception was poor and extremely staticky. I set up the camera and pressed record.

 ** _8-21-15_**

Hey Amethyst. It's been a while since I did one of these. My Dad and some of my extended family have me at this shore house with them for the next two weeks- but it's not exactly a happy family reunion. My Dad found out about my depression a couple weeks ago and... and... he said..

Well, he said he had no son. It hurt. It still hurts.

So anyway... my Mom talked him and some of my other family members into getting together with me so I could teach them to be more accepting and aware of depression and anxiety and things like that. Turns out they're using the opportunity to turn the whole thing into my own personal boot camp to "whip my mind into shape" or something. It's totally ridiculous, they made me try to rebuild an old today. I failed, obviously, and they made me eat scraps for dinner instead of with the family.

And guess what? They left no scraps. I'm starving.

Then again, I expected as much.

There's also a bunch of dumb ground rules my Dad set for me, as if he thinks I'm some kind of kid.

My whole body aches. I wish I never agreed to this. I should have just told my Mom no and hung up. I hate this. I hate my Dad. I hate myself for agreeing to this stupid thing. I can't believe I fell for this, I can't believe I actually thought they'd even give me a chance to speak! Grrr...

I don't know if I can take two weeks of this.

* * *

 **Day one of beach boot camp and Mordecai's already nearing the end of his rope... how will he deal?**

 **Hope y'all enjoyed, this is now officially the longest chapter. It's about 1:15 in the morning here on the east coast of the US. I kinda took a risk on the whole Margaret and psychology thing. Was that too OOC? What did you guys think of that? Yes/No/Maybe so?**

 **Voice your opinion! Review!**


	12. Losing it in Port Watsonvile

_**8-28-15**_

The past week has been awful. This "whipping me into shape" thing has evolved to something beyond physical labor. It's become some kind of psychological mugging on my mind. When I'm not busting my ass doing some pointless chore, I'm being heckled by my family. Except my Dad, of course. I overheard him telling my Aunt last night that he won't talk to me unless he's giving me work or something like that.

My Uncle has been telling me stories of my childhood all week, which is fine; except for the fact that he ends _every single one_ with something along the lines of "now look what you've become" "now you're an embarrassment to everything your father has taught you" "what happened?" "you should be ashamed". It's demeaning.

My Grandma refuses to acknowledge I exist. I don't even know why she agreed to come if she didn't want her share of taking me down a peg.

My Aunt barks orders at me from nowhere. Like, I'll be walking in from finishing another one of Dad's stupid "assignments" and she'll shove a broom in my hands and tell me to sweep the basement. Dad just lets her, too. Not that I expect otherwise..

...And there's Grandpa. Last night I stubbed my toe and said "Fuck" to myself. Because, y'know, it was just one of those things. Like you stub your toe or jam your nail and you go "aw, shit" or "uh, fuck" or something like that. Anyway, Grandpa doesn't take kindly to anyone swearing whilst under the age of 30.

So you know what he fucking did?

He made lay stomach-down on the couch, took off his belt, and _whipped_ me with it. Yeah. That's right. _Whipped._ 10 times on the back. He told me that "it worked on my Dad" and that it'll work on me. I didn't even know he was the kind of guy to _do_ that. Then again, I'm seeing a new ugly side to all my relatives here with me in this hellhouse.

I've learned my Dad's brutal, I've learned he gets it from Grandpa, I've learned Uncle Tim ain't much different, I've learned Aunt Betty likes to add insult to injury with surprise chores, and I've learnt that my Grandma is a coward who won't confront her grandson about something I like to think she knows she's wrong about.

...Okay, I'm being to harsh on Grandma, but ugh, still. The fact that she won't speak to me hurts just as much as those belt wounds on my back. Grandmothers are supposed to be loving no matter what, and that goes for the whole family, but I guess I don't deserve that. I guess that doesn't apply to this family.

Now, onto the bullshit I've had to do in the last week. I've written out a list to keep track.

Day 1: Rebuild the shed, wind knocks it down, rebuild it again, Dad knocks it down. No dinner.

Day 2: Wash my Dad's car. Wash my Aunt and Uncle's car. Wash my Grandparents' car. Bird shits on Dad's car, makes me re-do the whole car. No dinner again.

Day 3: Paint the side of the house blue. Re-paint it as the original color because my Uncle realize the house was rented and we can't re-paint it. Got dinner, ate alone. By choice, that is.

Day 4: Catch 27 crabs on the beach without getting pinched. Had to start over 17 times. Dad and Grandpa took turns watching me. Got scraps for dinner.

Day 5: Clog all the toilets, and then unclog them. This was the most unusual chore seeing as my Uncle actually went out of his way to buy extra toilet paper for this. Got dinner.

Day 6: Build an outhouse with the scrap wood from the shack. Collapsed when my Grandpa tried to use it. Got whipped, no dinner, was funny as hell.

Day 7: Vacuum and dust the whole house 3 times. Did I mention this house is fucking huge? Got scraps for dinner.

All these chores were nothing compared to the emotional abuse I've underwent so far.

But then it occurred to me. I go home, and then what? My family continues being insensitive, I go back to hiding it? I put back on the mask I tried so hard to take off? And what if something slips and my family knows I still have depression? My Mom won't be able to stop my Dad from getting the others to do exactly this again. And I'm already such a disappointment to my Dad, he probably wishes I was never born. He probably wishes I didn't exist. No, not probably, I _know_ he wishes I was gone. And the rest of my Dad's side of the family, too. I'm sick of hearing about how much of a fuck-up I am, how much of a lost cause I am, how much of a let-down I turned out to be.

And in all honesty, is he wrong? I went to a crappy art school and all I have to show for it is a shit job at a shit park and a shit salary. It's not like I wasn't already a god damn failure to begin with.

Oh, and don't get me started on my friends at the Park, not to mention Margaret. I've probably been such a burden on her and I haven't even been that caring of a boyfriend to her. If I was gone, she'd probably have a weight lifted from her shoulders. Not having to take care of me and my pathetic self anymore..

And then there's Rigby. He'd miss me, a lot probably. I guess it'd rest easy for him to know I'd be in a better place...

And let's not forget Benson. Sure he's been "buddy-buddy" with me at times. But then again, same applies to the whole staff. And he's made it clear before that we're all just his extremities, just regular old employees that he can hire and fire all the same. He'd hire someone new within the week.

As for Muscle Man and Fives? Man, fuck 'em. Muscle Man has always been obnoxious and Fives rarely does anything to stop him.

And Skips... I don't even know.

 _Sigh._ Maybe I should just give my Dad what I know he wants.

* * *

 ** _That Night, At Margaret's House..._** _[Entering traditional story format, 3rd Person POV]_

 _Margaret walked down a misty beach. She held her flashlight tight in her hands. She was wearing nothing but the thin, white, soft, comfortable night gown she slept in from time to time._

 _She didn't know what exactly she was doing, or why. She was looking, that's all she knew. She was looking for something, and didn't question it. She walked through the sand, the sound of crashing waves filling up the misty, salt water-scented air._

 _She saw a figure in the distance. She ran towards it. As she got closer, she noticed it to be the figure of Mordecai._

 _"Mordecai? Mordecai!" she exclaimed as she moved closer to the figure. She reached her destination. For some reason, she had stopped in her tracks several paces behind Mordecai. He had his back turned to her._

 _Something was off._

 _"Mordecai?" she said, loudly. Mordecai was clearly in earshot. What was going on?_

 _"Mordecai? What's wrong? It's me, Margaret!" she exclaimed. Still no response. Just then, Mordecai pulled a gun.._

 _"Mordecai?" she said, alarmed at the sight of a firearm. Mordecai placed it to his head._

 _"MORDECAI! NO!" she bellowed as she dove for the figure._

 _ **BAM.**_

"AHHHH!" Margaret screamed as she shot up in her bed. As her rapid breathing slowed down to normal pace, she turned on her night stand lamp and pulled her knees into her chest. She cried softly into her knees.

Another nightmare.

Margaret was scared out of her wits. She needed to know if Mordecai was okay, she needed to know what was happening down there. She looked over at the clock, it read 4:24 AM. She reached for the phone and dialed Mordecai's home phone number, hoping his mother would pick up. She knew it was early, but Mrs. Quintel was always quirky lady. To her shock, Mrs. Quintel picked up.

"Good Morning, Margaret! I'd ask you what you're doing up so early, but you could ask me the same question! Hah! I'm doing some early morning gardening. It relaxes me. What can I do for you?" she asked.

 _Early morning gardening. Of course._ Margaret thought to herself.

"Morning Jeanne," she started, trying to make it sound like she wasn't weeping, "has Mordecai called? Is he doing okay?"

Mordecai's Mom sighed at this.

"I'm afraid not. They don't have service down there, and the house didn't come with a home phone. Is everything okay, dear? You sound upset." said Mrs. Quintel.

"I, uh-I.." Margaret couldn't hold it back. She started crying. "I'm worried sick about him! I'm terrified he's gonna hurt himself or get hurt! I've been having nightmares all week, I just want to know if he's okay.." she practically wailed into the phone.

"Oh, Margaret. Everything will be okay. Mordecai is strong. My baby will prevail. I know you're worried, but there's nothing we can do right there. We just have to sit and wait. I hate it just as much as you do, hun."

Margaret pulled herself together.

"You're right, Mrs. Quintel-"

"Jeanne"

"Jeanne. Right, sorry. You helped find the place, right? Like you said you helped rent it."

"Yes I did." Mrs. Quintel replied.

"Can I have the address?" Margaret asked.

"Well, sure, but I don't advise you driving down there."

"I won't," Margaret began, "I just want to research the area."

"Alright. Let me get the address, I wrote it down somewhere." said Mrs. Quintel. Margaret heard some fidgeting over the phone. "Ah, here it is. It says the house's address is 11 Shell Road, Port Watsonvile, California."

"Thanks, Jeanne. I'll talk to you later." said Margaret as she hung up. She went to her computer and looked at the address on Google Earth. It looked pretty on the rural side.. It certainly didn't make Margaret feel any better, except for the fact that she at least knew where Mordecai was.

 _Please be okay, Mordecai_


	13. Mordecai's House of Wolves (Bad Ending)

**_5 Days Later_**

 _ **9-2-15**_

It's kinda funny how people can kill one another despite having the best intentions. What my Dad and the others are doing.. they think it will "fix" me. But I'm convinced they don't care if I get "fixed" or not. I know my Dad wishes I was gone. I know my Aunt and Uncle blame my Mom for how I turned out; I overheard them say it. I'm sure my Grandparents want a do-over for their grandchild. They hate me.

The very people that praised and supported me in my childhood, the very people that took care of me and gave me fond childhood memories, they've betrayed me.

And it's all because Dad can't have a son "with a nonsensical fictitious disorder". He can't have a depressed son.

So he won't _have_ a son.

Sure in a few day's I'll be leaving this place (did I ever mention that they never told where the hell this place exactly is?), and I'd resume normal life, but in all honesty, what will that fix? Nothing. My family has betrayed me. All I have is my mother, and my mother's side of the family either dropped out of contact with us or is dead. I don't want to lead a life where I can't trust 95% of my family. Even if I leave here and go back to my home with Margaret and the others at the park, it won't fill the whole my Dad and family has left.

I feel empty. I'm hollow.

I'm done.

...Margaret, if you see this, I'm sorry. I don't want to live like this anymore. I should have been a better boyfriend to you. You deserve so much better. I... I love you. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you that in person.

Grandma and Grandpa, Aunt Betty and Uncle Tim... I have no words for you.

Rigby, my best friend... I'll miss you. I don't know what's on the other side for me... but it's got to be better than this. Look after Margaret if needed. She's a strong girl, so you probably won't need too... but if she needs someone, be there for her. This goes for Eileen too.

Benson, I don't really know what to tell you... You'll probably hire someone new within the week. I'm sorry I was never the best employee. Give my last paycheck to Rigby. Tell Muscle Man and Fives their jokes suck.

Skips, thanks for everything you've done for Rigby and I over the years. It means everything.

Thomas, you're cool dude. I'm sorry I never got the opportunity to get to know you better.

And Mom... oh God, Mom, I'm so sorry. I can't take this anymore, I just want to be at peace. You can rest easy knowing I'm finally in a better place where the likes of my father can't get me. It's better this way, I promise. Give Dad what's coming to him for what he did.

...as for you, Dad... If you ever see this... I just want you to know that this is your fault. I'm not just talking about this little "vacation", I'm talking about my whole life. I was a kid when I learned about my disorder. Ever since then, you made me feel like there was something wrong with me. You didn't even know I had it, but that didn't stop you from making me feel like a fucking freak. The blood is on your hands. You weren't willing to be there for me, and now you're going to suffer like I have. Let's see how "nonsensical" depression is once you've learned that you've killed your son. See you in hell, I'll be the first to greet you down there.

Don't worry about giving me a proper burial. The ocean should sweep my corpse away..

Goodbye...

* * *

 ** _That Night_** _[3rd Person POV]_

It was after midnight. Mordecai left his camera on his bed. He found a pen and paper in the TV cabinet, and scribbled out the words "play me". He left it next to the camera. He stealthily made his way downstairs and into his Grandparent's bedroom. He found his Grandpa's suitcase, and went through it. He found an old pistol; locked and loaded. Just as he had suspected, his Grandpa still carried a firearm with him. Being a veteran, Mordecai's Grandpa found some old habits hard to break.

Mordecai walked out to the beach. He inhaled the ocean hair deeply. This was the last time he'd feel the sensation of walking on the sand, smelling the ocean air, hearing the waves crash on the shore. He walked out to where the water just barely kissed the sand.

He looked up at the moon. He shut his eyes one final time as he took the gun off safety. He lifted the gun to his head, and firmly pressed the barrel against his temple.

 _Go ahead, do it. Pull the trigger!_ the all-too-familiar voice rang out in his head. _They'll all be glad you're gone, you'll finally make Dad happy for once! Do it!_

Mordecai exhaled as he brought his finger down on the trigger.

 ** _BAM._**

The shot rang out into the night sky as Mordecai's body fell onto the sand.

He had settled in for the long sleep.

* * *

 _ **The Next Morning**_ _[3rd Person POV]_

Mordecai's Dad yawned as he stretched his wings. He got dressed and ready for the day. He was planning on having Mordecai take another stab at building the outhouse. He entered his brother's room, only to find that he had just woken up as well.

"Morning Tim. Ready to wake up the boy?" he asked.

"Guess so, William." said Tim as he got to his feet.

The two walked over to Mordecai's room. The two were confused to find Mordecai was gone.

"The hell is he?" asked William, angered by his son's disappearance. Tim picked up the camera and note.

"Play me?" said Tim. "What does it mean?"

"I don't know, but it better be worth my time." said William as he took the camera and played back the most recent recording. The two watched the whole thing, sitting in awe upon realizing what it was.

 _"...Dad, if you ever see this; I just want you to know that this is your fault. I'm not just talking about this little "vacation", I'm talking about my whole life. I was a kid when I learned about my disorder. Ever since then, you made me feel like there was something wrong with me. You didn't even know I had it, but that didn't stop you from making me feel like a fucking freak. The blood is on your hands. You weren't willing to be there for me, and now you're going to suffer like I have. Let's see how "nonsensical" depression is once you've learned that you've killed your son. See you in hell, I'll be the first to greet you down there._

 _Don't worry about giving me a proper burial. The ocean should sweep my corpse away.."_

As the recording ended, Mordecai's Grandpa entered the room.

"My gun!" he exclaimed. "My gun's missing!"

William and Tim looked at each other wide-eyed.

"Follow us. I think Mordecai may have done something." said William, urgently. The three raced down the stairs, and past Mordecai's Grandma and Aunt Betty, who were preparing breakfast.

"What's going on?" asked Aunt Betty.

"Mordecai's gone!" exclaimed Tim as they dashed out the backdoor. Mordecai's Grandma and Aunt Betty followed.

They got out to the beach and began looking in every direction. They walked out towards the water. All of the sudden, a certain smell filled William's nostrils.

"Ugh, god, what is that smell? It's foul!" he exclaimed.

"AHHH!" shrieked Mordecai's Grandma as she pointed a 100 or so yards away. It looked like.. a body. They raced over to it. None of them could believe what they were looking at.

It was Mordecai's body. The top part of his head was blown away. Ocean water has washed over the corpse several times, giving it an especially foul smell. His blood had painted the sand red. Mordecai's Grandpa leaned over and picked up his gun; the gun that killed his grandson. He was speechless.

They remained silent for what seemed like an eternity, until William broke the silence.

"God _DAMMIT!"_ he screamed as he fell to his knees and broke out into angry tears. _The blood is on your hands._ He kept thinking. Mordecai's recording had rang out in his head. "I just wanted _to help you,_ Mordecai! How c-could you.." exclaimed William, as he lost the ability to articulate words. The whole group broke into a fit of silent tears.

* * *

 _ **Meanwhile**_

"Hmm, hm-hm, hmm..." Jeanne hummed to herself as she washed the dishes. It was almost noon. It was a beautiful, normal day... but she couldn't help but feel that something was off.

The phone rang. She put down the plate and took off her rubber gloves. She picked up the phone and placed it against her ear.

"Hello?" she said.

"It's William... something's happened.." he said, solemnly.

"What it is it? What's wrong?" she asked, concerned.

"It's Mordecai... he's.. he's.."

"Mordecai's what? Is he okay? Is my baby okay?" spat Jeanne frantically.

"...Mordecai's dead. He... he shot himself... on the beach last night..." choked out William through guilty tears.

Jeanne went wide eyed. She didn't even notice as she dropped the phone to the floor. _Dead? Mordecai? How could that be?_ She picked up the phone from the ground.

"W-What?" she choked out.

"Our son is dead, Jeanne... he left a recorded message on his camcorder.."

Jeanne collapsed to her knees. The tears fell freely from her eyes.

"How could this be?" she exclaimed. "What happened? He was doing better when I sent him off with you!"

"..." William fell silent.

"...William... did you say something to him... d-did you do something..." stammered Jeanne.

"..."

"I s-sent him there to educate you and the others! What did you do to him!" she shouted.

"..."

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY BABY, DAMMIT!" she found herself screaming. William finally spoke.

"...We'll talk about it later. You should inform Mordecai's friends and acquaintances. I'll bring.. the body up to the morgue in town and I'll show you the video. I-I need to go. I'll be home in a few hours." he said urgently.

"William, don't you dare hang up this phone!" shouted Jeanne. Alas, it was too late. The call ended. "WILLIAM!" she shouted as she threw the phone across the room. She collapsed to the floor and sobbed. After what seemed like forever, she gathered the strength to pick herself up from the floor and grab the phone. She dialed a number.

* * *

 ** _That Afternoon_**

Margaret didn't know why Benson had called her over for a park meeting. She didn't even work there, for christ sakes. Benson told her that Mordecai's Mom needed to bring some urgent news to Mordecai's coworkers and friends. When she got there, she was met by Mordecai's parents, as well as Eileen, Rigby, Muscle Man, Fives, Benson, Pops, Skips, and Thomas.

"Margaret, finally! We were waiting on you. Please take a seat." said Jeanne. She looked like she had been crying. Margaret had a bad feeling about this.

"I wanted to wait until everyone arrived to break the news..." she said, beginning to choke up. "Mordecai, my baby boy.. is dead." said Jeanne as she began crying once more.

Everyone in the room was shocked. They couldn't believe what they just heard! How could Mordecai possibly be dead? Even Skips looked shocked, and nothing ever surprised him. Rigby was the first to break the silence.

"He's... _dead!?"_ the frantic raccoon exclaimed. "How can that be? How can my best friend be _dead!?"_ he shouted.

"W-What happened to him?" exclaimed Margaret, breaking into tears. Mordecai's Dad spoke up, as he put his hand on his wife's shoulder.

"I'm afraid he took his own life late last night... he died of a self-inflicted gunshot to the head." said William in a broken, remorseful voice. Margaret was shocked.

"Wait, but this doesn't make any sense! Why would Mordecai kill himself? He was never, like, depressed or anything! Right? And I thought he was at a funeral?" Benson expressed.

"My Mordy was battling depression for half of his life. He kept it a secret from you Benson because he feared for his job. He had also made a habit out of hiding it..." Jeanne said as she shot a look at William, "...from almost everybody. And there was never a death in the family, I sent Mordecai away to beach vacation with his father's side of the family to educate them on depression." She explained. Everyone shot an inquiring look at William.

"Oh my god..." said Benson in disbelief.

"Oh, bad show!" Pops exclaimed in a fit of tears.

"Oh no, bro, how can he be dead, bro?" whimpered Muscle Man. Thomas didn't quite know how to react; he didn't know Mordecai very well.

"He left a video recording the morning my husband found him," began Jeanne, "I wanted to show it to you all. My husband told me he addresses all of you."

William looked nervous. He knew this would expose what he and his side of the family had done, but he also knew he couldn't run away from this. These people deserved the closure that was this recording.

Jeanne hooked the camera up to the TV and played the recording. Mordecai appeared on the screen, sitting on the bed in the room in which he spent his final days.

He began to speak.

 _"It's kinda funny how people can kill one another despite having the best intentions. What my Dad and the others are doing.. they think it will "fix" me. But I'm convinced they don't care if I get "fixed" or not. I know my Dad wishes I was gone. I know my Aunt and Uncle blame my Mom for how I turned out; I overheard them say it. I'm sure my Grandparents want a do-over for their grandchild. They hate me._

 _The very people that praised and supported me in my childhood, the very people that took care of me and gave me fond childhood memories, they've betrayed me._

 _And it's all because Dad can't have a son "with a nonsensical fictitious disorder". He can't have a depressed son._

 _So he won't have a son."_

* * *

The Park Family was confused. What was he talking about, what was Mordecai's Dad actually doing?

* * *

 _"Sure in a few day's I'll be leaving this place (did I ever mention that they never told where the hell this place exactly is?), and I'd resume normal life, but in all honesty, what will that fix? Nothing. My family has betrayed me. All I have is my mother, and my mother's side of the family either dropped out of contact with us or is dead. I don't want to lead a life where I can't trust 95% of my family. Even if I leave here and go back to my home with Margaret and the others at the park, it won't fill the whole my Dad and family has left._

 _I feel empty. I'm hollow._

 _I'm done."_

* * *

 _I'm hollow._ Those words stung Margaret's ears. Mordecai then began to address the people viewing the recording.

* * *

 _...Margaret", if you see this, I'm sorry. I don't want to live like this anymore. I should have been a better boyfriend to you. You deserve so much better. I... I love you. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you that in person._

 _Grandma and Grandpa, Aunt Betty and Uncle Tim... I have no words for you._

 _Rigby, my best friend... I'll miss you. I don't know what's on the other side for me... but it's got to be better than this. Look after Margaret if needed. She's a strong girl, so you probably won't need too... but if she needs someone, be there for her. This goes for Eileen too._

 _Benson, I don't really know what to tell you... You'll probably hire someone new within the week. I'm sorry I was never the best employee. Give my last paycheck to Rigby. Tell Muscle Man and Fives their jokes suck._

 _Skips, thanks for everything you've done for Rigby and I over the years. It means everything._

 _Thomas, you're cool dude. I'm sorry I never got the opportunity to get to know you better._

 _And Mom... oh God, Mom, I'm so sorry. I can't take this anymore, I just want to be at peace. You can rest easy knowing I'm finally in a better place where the likes of my father can't get me. It's better this way, I promise. Give Dad what's coming to him for what he did._

 _...as for you, Dad... If you ever see this... I just want you to know that this is your fault. I'm not just talking about this little "vacation", I'm talking about my whole life. I was a kid when I learned about my disorder. Ever since then, you made me feel like there was something wrong with me. You didn't even know I had it, but that didn't stop you from making me feel like a fucking freak. The blood is on your hands. You weren't willing to be there for me, and now you're going to suffer like I have. Let's see how "nonsensical" depression is once you've learned that you've killed your son. See you in hell, I'll be the first to greet you down there._

 _Don't worry about giving me a proper burial. The ocean should sweep my corpse away.._

 _Goodbye..."_

* * *

The screen faded to static. The whole room was in tears. Jeanne turned to William.

"William.. what was he talking about, 'being fixed'?" she inquired.

"Hey, yeah!" chimed in Margaret. "Just what the hell was going on?"

All eyes were on William. All of them angry. William exhaled.

"...Okay, so my brother, Mordecai's grandparents, and my sister-in-law thought we could take advantage of our two weeks away with Mordecai to whip him into shape; get all that 'depression' nonsense out of his head. So we put him to work, making him do particularly physically demanding odd jobs. You see, when I was growing up and feeling 'down in the dumps' my parents would make me do chores so I had something to focus my mind on. So I applied it to Mordecai." he explained.

"You WHAT?" shouted Jeanne. "I sent you there so Mordecai could _educate_ you and the rest of your ignorant family on a disorder that's very real! And you.. and you... _bully_ him to death! How could you, William?"

"Oh please! Do we have to get into this now? Depression is clearly just a synonym for 'sad', it's not an actual disorder. It's just something the lazy youth of this generation use to get attention! Of course I had to rid the idea from Mordecai's head!"

"Do you hear yourself right now, bro?" exclaimed Muscle Man.

"How can you _say_ that!?" asked Margaret. She was oblivious to it, but she was screaming at the top of her lungs. " _Your_ ignorance killed _MY_ _boyfriend and YOUR son!_ You're god damn murderer!" she spat.

"Now, hold on just a min-" started William, but was cut off by Rigby.

"YOU KILLED MY BEST FRIEND!" Rigby shouted as he leaped onto William, pushing him to the ground and slamming his fists on him. Jeanne pulled the angry raccoon off her husband.

"You don't think I know that? My son is dead! I feel awful!"

The argument lingered on for hours. The rest of that day was filled with heavy gloom. Rain showers were scattered throughout the day. Everyone went home that day with a hole in their hearts. If only someone had been there for Mordecai when he reached his breaking point, someone who cared, someone who could have talked Mordecai out of it.. he could very well still be alive.

However, no amount of "but's" or "what if's" would ever bring Mordecai back; nor would endless rounds of the blame game.

The funeral was probably one of the hardest parts. Sobs weren't in short supply at the funeral service. Mordecai was layed to rest in a space made especially for him in the large garden behind the Park House. Skips crafted a tombstone just for him. It read:

 _Mordecai James Quintel_

 _An angel who left Earth too early_

 _January 17th, 1992 - September 3rd, 2015_

The park family, including Margaret and Eileen, made it a regular thing to have a picnic in the backyard next to Mordecai's grave every Sunday. It just felt like the right thing to do. Mordecai's parents also visited regularly to pay respects.

Life was never quite the same, but time passed as time did.

* * *

 ** _5 Years Later_**

Margaret woke up. She sat up in bed and stretched her wings. The 28-year-old avian stood up and got dressed for the day. However, today was a special day. She had her calendar marked up for today's date- September 3rd, 2020. It was the 5 year anniversary of Mordecai's death.

Margaret had thrown herself deep into journalism career shortly after Mordecai's passing. It was what she enjoyed doing, and also a means of coping with her loss. Margaret had tried to casually date guys here and there, but couldn't bring herself to commit to a new relationship. 5 years later, the wounds still stung. She could barely bring herself to even meet up for a casual first date until 3 years had passed. Even then, Eileen really had to nag her. Margaret ultimately decided to stay away from dating for a good while, at least until she had fully moved on.

On the bright side, Margaret had a lot to show for her career. She had become an anchorwoman for a major news network branched in the area. Today she wouldn't be anchoring anything, though. Today the park was hosting an event for Mordecai's Foundation- a foundation she, Rigby, and Mordecai's mother had created to spread awareness about depression and similar disorders. All the fundraiser and donation money they had accumulated over the years went to various charities, medical research, and much more. Margaret would be giving a speech.

Margaret scarfed down a bagel as she climbed into her car and drove to the Park. She parked in front of the house.

Rigby and Skips were setting up chairs in front of the small stage on the field in front of the Park House. Thomas had left the park shortly after Mordecai passed to go back to college.

The audience for today's speech was a group of students from the local middle school. Part of their curriculum was being educated on mental health.

Margaret spent some time chatting with the Park Crew before venturing towards the garden where Mordecai was buried. She approached the gravestone.

"Hey Mordecai. Hard to believe you've been gone 5 years..." she said to the unresponsive grave.

"I miss you tons. Eileen tried to set me up on another blind date last week... the guy smelled like cheese and sweat, eheh. He was sooo gross." she continued. She knew it was probably pathetic, but just speaking to Mordecai's resting place gave her a certain peace of mind.

She checked the time, and found that she had to give her speech in 5 minutes.

"I gotta go, Mordecai. I'll be back soon. Miss you.." she said as she began to walk away.

She took to the stage and approached the podium. A crowd of 12 and 13 year olds stared back at her.

"Depression. Anxiety. Self harm. Suicide. These are all things that.."

* * *

Margaret's speech and presentation lasted approximately an hour. She discussed ways to seek help and support, the ins and outs of various mental disorders, as well as Mordecai's story. The audience seemed fairly moved by it. Some even teared up.

She liked that. Well, not that people were crying, but that she felt she made an impact. That was always here goal when she had to publicly speak about this kind of stuff.

After she finished her speech, she was met by Mordecai's mother.

"That was a very inspiring speech, Margaret." she said.

"Jeanne, you've heard me give that speech tons of times." Margaret chuckled.

"I know, but it's still comforting to know you still care this much, after all the time that's passed."

"So, has William opened up at all?" Margaret asked as the two made their way over to Mordecai's grave.

"He's coming around about it. He's still struggling with his.. involvement, in Mordy's passing. It seems like he's showing signs of depression, and doesn't even know it." she explained as they looked upon the weathered gravestone.

"Irony, huh? Well, I'm glad he's begun to open up."

"It's been a real journey for him. I feel like he's discovered a lot about himself in the past 5 years." Jeanne said, trying her best to sound positive.

"I'm just sad that took Mordecai's death to finally get him to do so." said Margaret.

The two were silent for a moment.

"Y'know Jeanne, when I'm in my room at night, falling asleep, I still feel Mordecai's presence in my bed."

"I feel his presence whenever I stroll through the park, or go in his old bedroom." replied Jeanne.

"Heh, you think he's 'haunting' us?" asked Margaret.

"I don't think so, Margaret," began Jeanne as she focused on the gravestone, which was currently being hit by a beam of sunlight.

"I know so."

* * *

 **FIN! Sort of. I will release the good ending before the week is over!**

 **I know Mordecai is technically born in 1987, considering the show started in 2010 and he's 23. But since cartoon characters don't age for some reason, I figured I'd make him 23 in 2015 instead of 2010; in which case, he'd have been born in 1992 if I did the math correctly.**

 **Sorry if this sorta dragged on longer than it needed too. 4500+ words... Jesus. Hope y'all enjoyed! Stay tuned for the alternate good ending!**


	14. Of Artists & Anchors (Good Ending)

**Hey guys. Just a heads up, the beginning of the good ending is gonna be fairly similar to the bad one. This is the home stretch everyone!**

 **UPDATE 7/10/15: Yo. I felt as though this was a bit rushed, so I decided to extend it. I added some content taking place the day after Mordecai and Margaret spend the night in the motel and before we cut to 5 years later. Also don't expect anything from me for the rest of the summer, I'm going to work at a summer camp for 6 weeks and then I'm going on a 10 day road trip with my Dad to Key West FL.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 ** _5 Days Later_**

 _ **9-2-15**_

It's kinda funny how people can kill one another despite having the best intentions. What my Dad and the others are doing.. they think it will "fix" me. But I'm convinced they don't care if I get "fixed" or not. I know my Dad wishes I was gone. I know my Aunt and Uncle blame my Mom for how I turned out; I overheard them say it. I'm sure my Grandparents want a do-over for their grandchild. They hate me.

The very people that praised and supported me in my childhood, the very people that took care of me and gave me fond childhood memories, they've betrayed me.

And it's all because Dad can't have a son "with a nonsensical fictitious disorder". He can't have a depressed son.

So he won't _have_ a son.

Sure in a few day's I'll be leaving this place (did I ever mention that they never told where the hell this place exactly is?), and I'd resume normal life, but in all honesty, what will that fix? Nothing. My family has betrayed me. All I have is my mother, and my mother's side of the family either dropped out of contact with us or is dead. I don't want to lead a life where I can't trust 95% of my family. Even if I leave here and go back to my home with Margaret and the others at the park, it won't fill the whole my Dad and family has left.

I feel empty. I'm hollow.

I'm done.

...Margaret, if you see this, I'm sorry. I don't want to live like this anymore. I should have been a better boyfriend to you. You deserve so much better. I... I love you. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you that in person.

Grandma and Grandpa, Aunt Betty and Uncle Tim... I have no words for you.

Rigby, my best friend... I'll miss you. I don't know what's on the other side for me... but it's got to be better than this. Look after Margaret if needed. She's a strong girl, so you probably won't need too... but if she needs someone, be there for her. This goes for Eileen too.

Benson, I don't really know what to tell you... You'll probably hire someone new within the week. I'm sorry I was never the best employee. Give my last paycheck to Rigby. Tell Muscle Man and Fives their jokes suck.

Skips, thanks for everything you've done for Rigby and I over the years. It means everything.

Thomas, you're cool dude. I'm sorry I never got the opportunity to get to know you better.

And Mom... oh God, Mom, I'm so sorry. I can't take this anymore, I just want to be at peace. You can rest easy knowing I'm finally in a better place where the likes of my father can't get me. It's better this way, I promise. Give Dad what's coming to him for what he did.

...as for you, Dad... If you ever see this... I just want you to know that this is your fault. I'm not just talking about this little "vacation", I'm talking about my whole life. I was a kid when I learned about my disorder. Ever since then, you made me feel like there was something wrong with me. You didn't even know I had it, but that didn't stop you from making me feel like a fucking freak. The blood is on your hands. You weren't willing to be there for me, and now you're going to suffer like I have. Let's see how "nonsensical" depression is once you've learned that you've killed your son. See you in hell, I'll be the first to greet you down there.

Don't worry about giving me a proper burial. The ocean should sweep my corpse away..

Goodbye...

* * *

 ** _EARLIER THAT NIGHT, AT MARGARET'S HOUSE..._** _[3rd Person POV]_

Margaret had been on edge all day. She felt it in her heart; she knew. She knew that something wasn't right. It was almost as if she could feel Mordecai slipping away. It made her uneasy.

But it couldn't possibly mean anything, right? This feeling could easily have been the result of Mexican food she had last night with her parents.

Nevertheless, she knew very well that sheer intuition could go very far, and that the unnatural isn't always uncommon. Her friendship with Mordecai and Rigby taught her that. She decided to consult Skips about it. Margaret didn't know Skips incredibly well, but she knew him enough to have a conversation with him without it seeming odd. She and Skips had talked on multiple occasions during parties and such. She knew that Skips was big on things... unnatural.

She drove over to Skips' house. It was raining like a bitch outside. She ran to his door, having forgotten an umbrella. Skips opened the door to see Margaret standing in the rain.

"Margaret? What brings you here?" he asked in his signature raspy voice.

"Skips, you know a lot about the supernatural and stuff like that, right?" she asked.

"Guess you could say that. Come in, you'll catch a cold." he said, ushering her inside.

Skips gave her a towel to dry herself with.

"So you wanna know about Mordecai, right?" he said, sitting cross-legged next to her.

"Yeah, how'd you know?" she asked.

"I know everything. Also I can see it in your eyes, and your body language. You're worried about him." he said.

"Damn right I am," Margaret began. "I feel like he's slipping away. I feel like I can sense him... losing hope. I think he's gonna-"

"Kill himself." said Skips, finishing her sentence.

"Yeah.."

"Hmm.." Skips went as he stood up and pondered. He skipped over to the shelf and grabbed some incense. He spoke as he lit it.

"Margaret, that's good news you can sense that. You know what this means?" he inquired.

"What?"

"You and Mordecai have an incredibly deep connection with one another."

"You mean like... soul mates?" asked Margaret, blushing.

"Possibly. It doesn't always indicate soul mates, but I've seen it lead to that before. It is definitely possible though. In your case, even probable. But that's not what you came here for, isn't it?"

"No, it's not.." said Margaret, realizing they had gotten off topic. "Mordecai's mother gave me the address of the house Mordecai is staying at with his family, so I could research the area. She told me it may not be a good idea to drive down there, but..."

"Do it." said Skips.

"Huh?" asked Margaret.

"Margaret, I'm not gonna stand here and waste your time with some hocus-pocus thought provoking speech. The fact of the matter is you have a deep connection with Mordecai, that connection allows you to pick up on one another's feelings. You sense Mordecai is gonna die by his own hand, right?" asked Skips.

"Yes, I do."

"Go stop him, then. Simple as that." said Skips.

"What if my intuition is wrong?"

"Yeah? And what if it's right?" shot back Skips. Margaret wasn't exactly crazy about taking those odds.

"The house is almost a two hour drive away.." Margaret said staring at the floor.

"Better get on the road then. Margaret, when it comes to someone you have this deep a connection with, you can't take risks. Go to him." said Skips.

"You're right, Skips! I will!" exclaimed Margaret. She thanked Skips and ran out the door. She looked at the time.

It was about 10 o'clock at night.

* * *

 _ **Approximately Two Hours Later...** [3rd Person POV]_

Margaret arrived at the house. Due to traffic, she arrived a little later than she had hoped; but she knew that sneaking Mordecai away from the house at night would have been better than doing so during the day. Margaret got out of the car and took a look at the place. It looked old and big. The moonlight shown brightly on the house's old features.

Margaret walked up the front porch steps and stopped at the door. She expected it to be locked, but to her surprise it was open (a mistake on behalf of Mordecai's Grandpa). It was obvious the house was far too old to have been equipped with an alarm system. She walked in, silent as air.

 _Shit, how am I gonna find Mordecai's room?_ she thought to herself. She was quickly pondering when something in her head clicked. Her intuition would lead her to Mordecai!

She shut her eyes, and focused on Mordecai in her head. She began to envision the house. She saw the stairs, and then the upstairs hallway. Her envisionment traveled down the hall all the way to the end. It was Mordecai's room.

Margaret opened her eyes and saw the staircase to her left.

 _Bingo!_ she thought.

She treaded lightly as she paced up the stairs and down the hall. She entered Mordecai's room.

"Mordecai? Mordecai? It's me.." she whispered as she shut the door behind her. She switched on a lamp. No one.

She then spotted the camera on Mordecai's bed, and noticed the note that said "play me". What on Earth could this be?

That's when she saw it. She peered out the window looking towards the beach and found Mordecai walking out towards the beach. Was that...

...a _gun_ in his hand?

Margaret pieced it together. The camera.. it was a suicide note. Mordecai was on his way to shoot himself!

She put Mordecai's camera back on his bed and shut off the lamp. Margaret quickly and quietly raced through the hall, down the stairs, and out the back door.

 _Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, don't be dead, Mordecai! Please don't be dead!_

She was terrified of being too late. As soon as she exited the back door she burst into a sprint. She followed Mordecai's footprints in the sand. She decided not to alert him of her presence, thinking it'd somehow motivate him to get the job over with sooner.

She saw his figure. She was 50 feet away.

40 feet.

30 feet.

20 feet..

As Mordecai lifted the gun to his head, time seemed to move infinitely slower. Margaret realized her nightmare from before was coming true, right before her eyes. She now realized that it wasn't just a nightmare..

..It was a warning.

15 feet..

10 feet...

Margaret picked up her speed.

5..

4..

3..

2..

1...

 ** _BAM._**

The shot narrowly missed Mordecai as Margaret tackled him to the ground, causing his arm to move in a different direction. The bullet had been shot in the direction of the water. The gun had been thrown a few feet away. It took a moment for Mordecai to process what happened. He got up and spotted Margaret.

"M-Margaret? What are you doing here?" he asked as Margaret got up from the sand. There were tears in her eyes and she was panting heavily.

She stepped up to Mordecai, and slapped him as hard as she could.

"Ow! What was that f-" Mordecai was cut off as Margaret pulled him into an intense kiss. After a solid minute, she broke away and spoke.

"Don't you _ever, ever, EVER,_ try to kill yourself _again!"_ she exclaimed through hot tears. Mordecai was speechless. "My intuition, not to mention Skips told me to come here and take you home! And that's exactly what I intend on doing! Now come on, you're getting your stuff and we're leaving this awful place!" exclaimed Margaret as she grabbed Mordecai's arm and tried to drag him away.

"Margaret!" exclaimed Mordecai as he shook away from Margaret's tight hold. Margaret turned to look at him. "I don't want too" said Mordecai, plainly.

"What? What the hell do you mean?" asked Margaret.

"There's no point. I leave here, and then what? My family still hates me, I'm still a fucking failure with a shit job, I'm still going nowhere, and I'm still a disgrace to all the people that are supposed to support me above all else! They all want me fucking dead anyway!" exclaimed Mordecai. Margaret was dumbfounded, she had had enough.

"Your _family?_ Your _FAMILY?_ Look around you Mordecai! Look at what you're doing! Look at yourself! I don't know what has went on here in the past week and a half but look where it led you! You just tried to _shoot_ yourself! Your "family" put you down, humiliated you and obviously drove you to this! You said they _wanted_ you dead! Isn't it fucking clear, Mordecai?" Margaret exploded.

"Isn't what clear?" Mordecai said.

"Those people are _not your family!_ Those people are mentalist, cruel, ignorant, morons! Your real family is everyone at that damn park! Rigby! Benson! Skips! Eileen! Your mother, you loves you and misses you and worries for you just as much as _I fucking do!_ Even Muscle Man, Fives, and Thomas! We have always been and always will be there for you! We support you! We care about you! We want you to be safe! Not _these_ assholes! It doesn't matter what they think or what they want!" Margaret spat.

Mordecai was taken aback by all of this. His eyes were opened. His friends and family back in Twin Peaks were his real family. Not his Uncle and Aunt, not his Grandparents, and certainly not his Father. He didn't need to answer to the likes of them. In fact, he felt like he didn't need them in his life at all. He looked back at Margaret. She looked tired and teary eyed. She had driven all the way here to save him from this hell hole. If she was just a measly second late, Mordecai would be dead. He looked up at his girlfriend with sympathetic eyes.

"Margaret, I-" Mordecai was cut off by a voice.

"Mordecai, where are you!? Why aren't you in _bed!"_ shouted an angry voice from the house. It was his Dad and Uncle; Uncle Tim had a baseball bat with him.

"Oh _shit!"_ said Mordecai under his breath.

"We need to hide!" exclaimed Margaret. She grabbed the gun, thinking it would come in handy, as they hid behind a sand dune.

"A couple of people are being _very_ loud out here! You can't hide forever!" shouted Mordecai's Dad.

"What do we do?" whispered Mordecai.

"How many rounds does this gun have in it?" asked Margaret.

"It's my Grandpa's. He usually has it fully loaded." replied Mordecai.

"Would you be mad if I non-fatally shot your Dad and Uncle in the foot?" asked Margaret. Mordecai thought about it for a brief second.

"They'd probably press charges for that. Any other ideas?" asked Mordecai. Margaret looked around, and saw that they were about 100 feet from Mordecai's Dad and Uncle; still unnoticed.

"Yes, actually. Follow my lead." said Margaret as she shot the gun into the night sky.

"What the hell was that?" exclaimed Uncle Tim.

"Dear God, it sounded like a gunshot! You don't think he..?" said Mordecai's Dad as they began running in the direction of the gunshot.

Mordecai and Margaret kept their heads low as they made there way over to the property. Before they entered the house, Margaret stopped.

"Hold on a sec.." Margaret said as she fired the remaining shots to get the attention of Mordecai's Dad and Uncle. They looked over and found Mordecai and Margaret waving.

"Yoo-hoo, boys! Mordecai _really_ enjoyed his stay, but he'll be leaving now!" shouted Margaret as they started running back towards the house. Margaret dropped the gun on the ground, having spent all the shots.

Mordecai moved quickly as he sprinted upstairs and hastily gathered all of his belongings into his bags. They ran out to Margaret's car together. Margaret started the car and put the pedal to the metal as the two furious elders made their way to the front of the house.

* * *

Once they were a safe distance away, Margaret spoke.

"So what were you gonna say? Before your Dad and Uncle showed up?" she asked.

"I was gonna say that you made me realize. The people at the park, my friends, my mother.. that's my real family. I was too far gone to see that, I was too... broken, at the hands of my biological family, to see that. Family isn't necessarily the people who you're biologically related too. It's whoever cares about you, whoever wants the best for you, the people who _truly_ know you inside and out. And it's the people who you find yourself in love with." Mordecai said as he put his hand on Margaret's shoulder.

"Margaret, I'm sorry I haven't been the most attentive boyfriend lately. I haven't treated you well enough. I haven't shown you how much I appreciate you. And I'm sorry for that. I love you." he finally said.

Margaret pulled the car over to the side of the road when she heard that.

"Mordecai, you have depression. You couldn't help that if you tried. I love you too, and I will always be here." Margaret said, sweetly. Mordecai smiled.

"Well, I'm still gonna try. You'll see, when we get home I'm start treating you like a queen. And now that I know who my real family is, I think I can start the road to recovery."

"Speaking of getting home," began Margaret. "Let's get a motel room tonight. It's late and I'm too tired to keep driving." she said. They drove a few miles up the road and stopped at a cheap motel to spend the night. The two walked into their room and plopped down on one of the beds together. Mordecai exhaled deeply, he was so happy to finally be out of that house. Margaret rolled over and snuggled up to him. She looked at him with her big, sad, brown eyes.

"Please never try to do that to yourself again.." she said, almost whimpering. Mordecai remembered what he had tried to do an hour ago.

"I'm sorry, Margaret. I promise that from now on, I'm here to stay. Always."

"Good.." said Margaret, content with his answer.

"So... now what?" asked Mordecai in a playful, almost flirtatious tone. Margaret snickered at this.

"Mordecai, please, we'll save _that_ for tomorrow night. I'm too tired." replied Margaret.

"Meh, fair enough." said Mordecai. He turned off the light and they drifted off to sleep, locked in each other's arms.

* * *

 ** _The Next Day, at Mrs. Quintel's House.._**

"...you drove down there? When I specifically told you _not too?_ Why?" asked Jeanne, disappointed in Margaret's actions. Margaret had just shown up at her door with Mordecai.

"Wait, Mom," Mordecai began, "She saved my life! Let her explain!" This caught Jeanne's attention.

"Saved your life?"

"Yes. Call it intuition, but I felt that Mordecai was slipping away, so I went to Skips for advice. He told me that I should act on what I was feeling. And sure enough, when I got to the house, Mordecai was on his way to shoot himself, and I tackled him at the very last second. Had I been a second later and Mordecai would be.." Margaret trailed off. Jeanne was wide-eyed. She turned to Mordecai.

"You.. honey... you tried to kill yourself?" she said, with tears in her eyes. Mordecai looked at the floor.

"Dad and the others were using the two weeks to make me do all these insane chores to try and "whip me into shape", thinking it'd somehow make me think I didn't have depression or whatever. They verbally abused me; physically at times, too. I lost hope in myself. I felt like a disgrace, a disappointment, like the world was coming down on me again. It seemed like they all wanted me dead, and for a brief moment I lost the will to live... but then Margaret showed up at the last second. And she showed me who my real family was."

"Your real family?" asked Jeanne.

"Yes- you, my friends at the park, and Margaret.." said Mordecai as she took Margaret's hand. "..Not my shitty Dad and my other ignorant relatives."

Jeanne hugged Mordecai tightly. "Oh, I'm just happy my special guy is alive and well! And you're right! Your family is the people who truly accept and support you till the very end!" she said as she turned to Margaret and gave her an equally as tight hug. "And Margaret! How can I ever repay you for saving my baby boy?"

"Mordecai being alive is all the reward I need." Margaret said. Mordecai blushed at this.

"Let's all go out to a fancy restaurant tonight! My treat!" exclaimed Jeanne.

* * *

 _ **That Night, at Mordecai and Margaret's house..**_

Mordecai and Margaret trudged through the door of their modest home. Mordecai's mother had taken them out to a new Italian restaurant that opened up by the mall. The food was outrageous. It was a fancy place, so they had to dress formal. The two headed up to the bedroom.

"Man, I've never had eggplant parmesan that good before." said Mordecai as he undid his tie and unbuttoned his shirt.

"Yeah, everything was delicious! Feel sorry for your Mom though, the bill was pretty steep." said Margaret as she tugged off her dress and fished through her drawer for her pajama pants.

"My mother doesn't mind splurging every now and then." said Mordecai as he plopped down on the bed. Margaret slid on her pajama pants and laid down next to him.

"Soo.." Margaret said as she rolled on top of Mordecai, "you still wanna have some fun..?" she said flirtatiously as she ran her finger down Mordecai's chest. Mordecai smirked back at her.

The lights shut off.

* * *

 ** _5 Years Later_**

5 years down the road, and much has changed. Mordecai resurrected his artistic side and became a cartoonist/storyboard artist working for a west coast branch of Cartoon Network. Margaret was a news anchor on a major west coast news network. However, work wasn't the only big change.

Mordecai and Margaret were two years married, with a one year old daughter named Kennedy Amethyst Quintel, who had beautiful light violet feathers. The new jobs required the couple to relocate to San Francisco. However, since they didn't want Kennedy growing up in a large urban area, they moved to Walnut Creek; a quaint and pretty town located 30 minutes east of the city. They had bought a medium-sized house, perfect for a family of three.

Rigby and the others still worked at the park, while Eileen owned and operated a Sea Turtle refuge and exploratory in Twin Peaks. The distance didn't stop Mordecai and Margaret from visiting whenever they could.

The wedding was a tad awkward; Margaret's whole family was there, while only Mordecai's Mom and Park Family attended. This was on purpose, though. Mordecai had dropped out of contact with his Dad and his father's side of the family. Jeanne ultimately decided to divorce her husband for nearly driving Mordecai to suicide. The wedding was happier that way. Obviously, it was held at none other than good 'ol Maellard Park.

One of the perks of Mordecai's job was that he was able to send in his art and drawings in from home so he could take care of Kennedy; he had too considering Margaret was a news anchor and wasn't home for most of the day.

Mordecai was in his studio, doodling out the scenes of a show he'd been helping to develop when he heard crying from the other room.

"Ugh, why won't that girl just take a nap?" he said to himself.

He entered the nursery and approached Kennedy's crib, where she was throwing another fit. Mordecai picked her up.

"Hey, what's wrong sweetie?" he asked. Kennedy's wail had simmered down to a whimper. He knew she wasn't hungry, and she didn't need a change because he didn't smell anything. He looked over at the clock and noticed nap time was technically over anyway. Mordecai thought for a moment.

"Wanna watch Daddy draw?" he said. Kennedy smiled at this as she grabbed Mordecai's finger. "I'll take that as a yes." He took her into his studio, and sat her down in his lap and held her with one hand. He grabbed a pencil with his free hand and pulled out a clean sheet of paper. He decided to start by drawing her favorite cartoon character; Barnie. Personally, Mordecai couldn't stand the damn dinosaur or his show. But he knew the show was targeted at little kids, his daughter no exception. He drew a pretty accurate depiction of Barnie the Dinosaur, to which Kennedy found joy in.

"Bawnee!" she said pointing her little finger at the doodle. She continued to coo in happiness as Mordecai continued doodling the other characters from Barnie's show.

It was small moments like this, having his baby daughter laugh at his drawings, that made him so damn grateful that he didn't succeed in taking his life that night by the shore in Port Watsonvile.

And now, he wouldn't give up his life for anything in the universe.

* * *

 **That's all, folks!**

 **I hope you all enjoyed reading this as I did writing it! It wasn't quite as long as the bad ending, but it was still about 4000 words long. I wanna give a shoutout to TheForgottenSoldier one final time for helping me plan out almost the whole second half of the fic.**

 **Thanks to all the kind reviews, I appreciate it very much.**

 **On a final, more serious note, I just wanna say this- Suicide is 100% preventable. If you are ever struggling, or feeling troubled, or hopeless, or whatever, talk to someone you can confide in. Help others in there struggles as others help you in yours.**

 **Peace**


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